“What…?”

My gaze shifted away from Zoey’s downed body as I examined my own two hands. A new burning sensation in my forehead had suddenly come over me. There’s no doubt that I’m awake. I’m still standing in Zoey’s hallway. So, what was that exactly?

“Tristan…?”

Zoey’s eyes were opened and focused on me.

“Zoey! Are you okay? What happened?”

I ran over to her and knelt beside her to assess the damage. There was a small cut on her forehead, but she had been bleeding so profusely that it’s a wonder that she was conscious at all. The blood pouring from her wound had made tiny puddles beneath her body.

“You’re in bad shape,” she said, hovering her hand over my bruised face.

“Look who’s talking. What happened to you?”

“I’m fine, but… where’s Mao…?”

I looked around, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“N-never mind that! Where are the towels? This is gonna scar. No wait, you’ve lost way too much blood! Can I just call 911?”

“It’ll be fine. Just get the first-aid kit from the cabinet bathroom.”

“O-okay…”

I hurried over in the direction she pointed at and found the bathroom. It was a tidy, intimate bathroom. I knelt at the cabinet near my feet and swung both doors open. After frantically brushing away rolls of paper towels, toilet paper, and assortments of detergents and cleaning liquids, I managed to locate the white box with a red cross in the middle. Without thinking, I grabbed the handle and rushed out as the box collided with the remaining toiletries in its path. My mind was a mess, and I had little experience applying first-aid. I just wanted Zoey to be better already.

“Your dog escaped.”

I hadn’t expected to see Gwen inside after she’d just got done expressing how much disdain she had for Zoey, who was now seated up and leaning against the kitchen counter. But when I saw Mao in her hands, I realized that she probably just wrangled him up after he left through the door.

“I see, thanks,” Zoey said.

Gwen lowered him to the ground and pet him gently. He seemed to appreciate it as he stood in place to accept it, his tongue hanging from his mouth, before he scampered off in some other direction.

“You look like shit,” Gwen said.

“A girl’s allowed that much in her own home, I’m sure.”

“Guess so.” She went over to wash her hands in the kitchen sink.

Zoey’s sarcastic smile betrayed the sheer amount of dried blood that had reddened her gorgeous face. It honestly seemed like a miracle that she was even conscious at all. I ran up to Zoey and opened the first-aid kit on the floor next to her.

“Okay, what should I do now?”

“Seriously? You don’t even know how to do first aid on a cut?” Gwen sighed, then pushed me away. “Go wash your dirty hands first.”

“Right…”

She took the opportunity to kneel in front of Zoey’s body once her own hands were washed to examine the wound.

“They really were the same perfumes,” Gwen said as her gaze ran over Zoey’s face. I couldn’t see either of their expressions from where I was standing, so I had no idea how either of them was taking it. “The good news is that it looks like a pretty shallow cut. How’d you get this?”

“I don’t remember it too well. I guess my mom was just in one of her moods today.”

My blood went cold when I heard the words. Her mom did this to her?

“Tristan, hurry the fuck up. You need to stop the bleeding.”

“Oh, sorry!”

I rushed over at Gwen’s command, and she handed me a cloth that I then applied to the cut on Zoey’s forehead to stop the bleeding. She winced from the pain, but she managed to hold strong.

“He can’t even do first aid right.” Gwen sighed. “What the fuck do you even like about this guy, anyway?”

“His charming personality.”

“Learn to lie better.”

“Hey,” I spoke up. “Why don’t you do it if I’m so bad at it then?”

“Hell no. I’m not touching Zoey’s nasty wound. You do it. She’s your girlfriend.”

“She’s not…”

“Oh, I’m not?”

“H-huh? Well…”

“Jesus Christ,” Gwen mumbled under her breath.

I removed the cloth.

“How’s this?”

Gwen leaned over to inspect the wound.

“Hmm, that should be fine. Now lay her down on her back and clean the wound out with this.”

She handed me a cup of water.

“What? Shouldn’t I use rubbing alcohol?” I asked.

“Yeah, if you wanna make it worse.”

“Yeah, but-”

“She’s right Tristan, water’s better,” Zoey said.

“Wow, even your girlfriend’s not on your side. How does it feel being such a failure?”

“Shut up, dude…”

I laid Zoey on the floor of the kitchen, supporting her head in my lap. I brushed the strands of hair on her face away so that I’d have a clean shot of the cut. My face was burning up. The whole conversation was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Gwen’s abrasive personality and Zoey’s sly instigation. This was in addition to the intimacy of having her head right next to my… no, I shouldn’t think about that, I thought. I needed to help Zoey get better.

“I’m gonna start pouring it. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

The contents of the cup spilled over her bloodied face. Her expression was unchanging this time. I expected that she would handle it well, but I was surprised at how resilient she was all things considered. The water dribbled down her face and began soaking my pants, but I didn’t mind it. Fixing her up was the only thing I should be focusing on.

“Should be good,” Gwen said. “Hang on a sec.”

While she reached back into the first-aid kit to prepare the next step, I took the opportunity to wipe the dried blood off her face now that her face was moist. The scent of iron was not pleasant to my nostrils, and I could only continue staring in wonder as to how it was that she managed to stay so calm.

“Here.”

Gwen held out an opened container of ointment and some bandages, and I carefully applied them both to the wound. Zoey’s scarlet eyes peered into me as I cared for her. In an ordinary relationship, this might have been a romantic dream come true for me. The idea of nursing a vulnerable Zoey Brahm back to health like this was an alluring scenario and one I’m sure I had fantasized about once or twice. Her feeble body quivering, her eyes staring straight up at me as I cared for her, completely dependent on me for survival. There was a sense of importance and duty in caring for this girl, as she had cared for me that day. And yet, it was still difficult to ignore the reality of our tainted relationship.

“Thanks, Tristan. It means a lot.” Why do I become so weak to her smile?

“U-uh, yeah. No problem…”

“You’re so embarrassing.” Gwen sighed.

“Shut up.”

Zoey shifted, as if trying to get to her feet. “Can you help me stand?”

“Oh, right.”

I placed her arm around my shoulder and helped her up to her feet. The strong scent of iron was quickly drowned out by her usual, intoxicating perfume, the very same one that Gwen had almost been roped into wearing. I felt the aroma’s touch assail my nostrils as it invaded every inch of my body. Inhaling her scent so intimately felt like being tugged by her whims against my will. I was once again reminded that I am nothing more than a dog tamed by the scent of his master.

“I’ll be outside. Zoey, I noticed that there’s disposable ice bags in your first aid kit…”

“Yeah, he can use them if he needs it.”

Gwen turned away without so much as a nod and left through the door. In as much as she hated Zoey, I was surprised at how maturely she handled the situation. Was it out of respect for my love for her? I couldn’t say for sure. Either way, I refocused on supporting Zoey with my shoulders, slowly and carefully leading her to her bedroom. Traversing the staircase was frightening, but she seemed to be able to hold her balance well despite the blood loss. I placed her into her bed after turning the light on in her room.

“Zoey, I really think you should’ve called 911. That could’ve gone really badly.”

It didn’t look like she’d even heard a word I said. Once I’d tucked her in, her eyes were intently focused on the ceiling above our heads. She must have been lost in thought. I wasn’t needed, was I? Was she inviting me to leave?

“How are Gwen and Ben? Are they getting along?”

The question had come out of nowhere, but I supposed that it made sense for her to ask about it. Their relationship meant that they were both going to leave her alone.

“I think they’re breaking up.”

I wish I could have offered her better news in this weird time, but it was better to be honest with her. If I lied and she found out later, it might turn out badly for me. She didn’t seem to respond to my answer, though. She was still just staring up at the ceiling.

“You know,” she spoke up suddenly. “When I turned 18 earlier this year, my mom gave me an ultimatum. Either I follow her rules for the rest of the year until I go to college, or she’d kick me out onto the street. Yes, the very same mother who did this to my face said that to me.”

“But… what about your dad? Is he just going to let her kick you out like that? I know he’s not around often, but...”

“My parents are divorced.”

“What? Since when?

“About five years now.”

“I… see.”

I clearly remembered the last time I was here, she claimed that her father was out on frequent business trips. Did she lie to me about it back then? Or was she lying now? Maybe it was her head injury messing with her understanding of reality? To be honest, I couldn’t tell when she was lying or not. I’d taken everything she’s said to me these past few weeks as the truth. This obvious contradiction, however, had opened the door to the possibility that Zoey may not have been completely honest with me this entire time. Would Zoey really lie to me? As such thoughts ran through my head, she tugged on my sleeve once more.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“If what you said about me is right, if I truly am incapable of love, then it’s probably because I’ve never been on the receiving end of any love worth mentioning.”

The girl who always seemed so far above me was showing me her vulnerable side once again. Perhaps she lied about the divorce because it was a sore spot for her. It’s entirely possible that the whole ordeal had been looming over her to some degree. Is it fair of me to judge her for lying about it when her relationship with her parents was such a broken thing? A mom who abused her and couldn’t even stomach thinking about her daughter, judging by my experience of hacking her.

“Zoey, I can…” I gulped and knelt beside her bed. “I can show you what love is. I promise you. I…”

She smiled. “You won’t abandon me, will you Tristan?”

With gentle eyes, the strong, bold Zoey pleaded with me in a feminine voice that was uncharacteristic of her usual domineering personality. But behind that soft demeanor felt something menacing. Lurking in the dark behind that sweet expression. I gulped once more, steeling myself despite my second-guessing.

“Never. I’m yours.”

Her smile widened, dissipating any terrible premonitions I might have been holding. My mind flickered back to her words that fateful Friday. Of how she would’ve let me have my way with her if I wanted to. I thought of her naked body. The smoothness of her skin. Her supple curves. I thought about how fulfilling it would feel to unwrap the prize that every guy at school could only dream of, and about how good it would feel take the plunge right that second. Would it be wrong of me now, to make an advance? She was injured, after all. But…

“There’s a key in the potted plant near the door. Do you think you can lock up when you leave?”

“H-huh? Oh, sure…”

But just as quickly as those thoughts had begun dominating my headspace, I was dragged back to reality by her voice, and by my own self-loathing. The plight and guilt of my masculinity was weighing me by my neck at every turn. The insatiable desire to please the hungry snake between my legs haunted my thoughts whenever I was around this woman. It was a herculean task humanizing a girl as attractive as Zoey was. I wanted to have her. No, I needed her. I needed her to be mine. Those selfish, depraved feelings were driving me to the brink of insanity. I was beginning to despise my masculinity more than I ever had before. The urge to take a knife to my manhood was becoming more and more insatiable.

A complex combination of guilt and lust were tugging the strings of my heart. As much as I wanted her, I just couldn’t make a move after she got hurt like that. She needed to rest. And if she really lost a ton of blood, then something like that would most likely do more harm than good. And that’s ignoring the fact that she’s not in the mood. No, before that, is she even mentally prepared to do it with me?

“Good night, Tristan.”

I peered back into the room and found her snuggled tightly under her blanket, smiling warmly at me. The bandage I’d just placed on her forehead was like a cute memento of the trust in me she’d had when she called me to care for her. It was physical proof that I was now a part of her life, and that I would in the future be there for her to depend on.

“Good night, Zoey.”

I returned her smile then shut the light off in her room. After retracing my steps through the house, I shut all the lights off then left through the front door. It took me a moment to locate the key in the flowerpot. It was apparently buried under a couple inches of soil. But I did manage to lock the door and return it to its place. It did show how much she trusted me that she was willing to expose the key to her house like that. But that’s all the more reason why I couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once I arrived at the car, Gwen, who was leaning against it and smoking a cigarette, held a new icebag out for me without looking my way.

“Oh… thanks.” I stood outside next to her, leaning against the car, and applied it to my face. I had completely forgotten to take some, so it was a relief that she’d done me the favor. “Let’s stay for a while,” I said.

“Are you insane? Why? It’s getting late.”

“Gotta talk to her mom.”

“Her… Tristan, no. Let’s just go.”

She crushed the cigarette underfoot and headed into the car, but I didn’t follow her. I simply continued leaning until she finally turned the window down in frustration.

“Tristan, seriously?”

“I need to talk to her mom.”

“How are you going to even get home? It’s 35 degrees and the middle of the night!”

“I’ll walk, it’ll be a little under an hour.”

“Fucking Christ…”

Gwen reluctantly sighed. “Fine, we won’t leave. Just come in.”

I looked her way for a moment to inspect her face, and after deciding that she was telling the truth, I hopped into the car. The muted ambience from the outside world once again consumed me.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work, you know that?” she asked.

“Shut up… it just pisses me off that a parent could do that to their own kid.”

“Do you have good parents?”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe they’re a bit overprotective, but I like them.”

“Must be nice. My parents don’t really give a shit about me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Ha. Why are you apologizing? Is it your fault that they don’t care?”

“No, I just felt like it.”

“You’re so pathetic.”

“Maybe I am.”

We stared off into the darkness. Just me and her. She said that we were similar, but the truth is, I wanted nothing more than for her to be wrong. Even if everything she was saying made sense, I just really wanted to believe in a future where Zoey and I end up together.

“Tristan, I can’t hold it in. I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

As I turned to face her, she held out a crumpled box of what appeared to be medication.

“What’s this? Are you sick?”

She looked down at the box, then looked back up at me.

“No, you idiot. They’re iron pills. I found them in the trash in the kitchen.”

“You went through her trash? You?”

“I-it was bugging me, okay? I washed my hands five times afterwards and my hands still feel gross. And anyway, that’s not even the worst of it.”

She held up something I remembered distinctly from my childhood. Back when my mom would make cakes when I was a kid. This was something she used for the icing all the time. It was an empty bottle of red food coloring.

“I don’t understand.”

“What, seriously? How about you think for a second? What’s red and smells like iron?”

“Wait, but…”

Of course, I had completely understood what she was getting at. But it was just impossible to believe. Would she really go out of her way to fake an injury like that? Certainly, the blood did seem excessive, but… no. It wasn’t the first time she had lied to me, was it? Just then, she mentioned her parents’ divorce. Last week, her story was that he was out on a business trip. Her story changed. Besides that, one of the first things she taught me how to do was lie properly. She taught me to fight tooth and nail when your lie is discovered then feign defeat and offer up a more believable lie. This was just the type of person that she was.

“No, but… The cut was real. You examined it.”

“That’s what made me suspicious in the first place. Yeah, the cut was real. But it was too small and too shallow to cause any type of serious head injury, and it was definitely not bad enough to cause that amount of bleeding.”

She was telling the truth. In the first place, the idea of Gwen Diaz rummaging through someone’s trash did not compute to me. Wasn’t she a huge germaphobe? The fact that she compelled herself to do something like that told me everything I needed to know.

“So…”

“So, basically it means that you’re pathetic. You’re getting strung along and manipulated by that bitch. Hah. I don’t really know what she sees in you, but it sure is fucking funny watching you squirm like this.”

“But… why?”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe she was worried about you hanging out with us. Like she thought we’d steal you from her?”

“Yeah, but… I didn’t even tell her that I was still out.”

“Hmmm… yeah, I don’t really get it either,” Gwen said, leaning back in her seat. “She could’ve just wanted you to peel away from the group. Maybe she didn’t know we had already split up.”

Split up? Well, that is true. She wouldn’t have known unless she had eyes or ears there. But what if she did? Isn’t there someone who was at the mall with us that could’ve served as her own personal second eyes? She mentioned it to me herself, didn’t she?

“Anyway, maybe it’s for the best. You should just give up on her and find someone else. Maybe talk to Lawrence about it. I’m sure he’ll teach you how to get girls to like you.”

Lawrence. Once she mentioned the name, it all made sense.

“Call Lawrence,” I said.

“Huh? Him? Why?”

“Just do it.”

“What the fuck is your problem? Why would I call…” She sighed. “Never mind. I need to talk to him anyway.”

Gwen powered her phone on after apparently having had it off all day. Her screen lit up to a barrage of notifications. Dozens of missed calls and text messages flooded her phone’s screen as if the gates had been opened and the souls of the condemned were fleeing out into the open.

“Oh man,” I said.

Gwen ignored me and picked out Lawrence’s name from the list. As far as I could tell, it was just him, Penny, and Ben. I imagined that the desire to call Ben must have been tugging at her heart. But somehow, she managed to stay strong and leave it as it was.

“Gwen? Gwen, are you okay?” Lawrence answered, the speaker phone blaring through the car. “Where are you?”

It was a frantic side of Lawrence I’d never heard before. Was this how he acted with his friends?

“I’m fine. Sorry for leaving so suddenly, I just went out for a bit.”

“No worries, I get it.”

The line went quiet. There was obviously some awkwardness to the situation. That huge fight

“So did you two have fun?” Lawrence asked.

“You… two?” Gwen asked. I held my breath. I was hoping it was just my hyperactive imagination, but my worst fears had been realized in an instant. “What the fuck do you mean by you two?”

“What? Don’t play dumb. I saw Tristan get in your car with you when I was out looking for you.”

She went quiet. She must not have expected that. “And? Who did you tell?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You told someone. I know you did. Who did you tell?”

“Gwen I didn’t…”

“Fucking liar. Everyone’s such a fucking liar. Just tell me the truth. Who did you tell?”

“I can’t say.”

“Lawrence Young I swear to God I will end you if you don’t tell me right the fuck now.”

His side of the line went quiet. He was deliberating on how to handle the situation, clearly. He could lie to her, but I doubt it’d go well once she inevitably found out the truth. But not answering also seemed to be a bad option too. It seemed like the fate of their friendship hinged on him telling the truth.

“Gwen, don’t get mad.”

“I’m not fucking… Jesus Christ. Just tell me already. Who did you tell?”

“I… I told Zoey.”

My greatest fears were realized.

“You… you what?”

The call, the fake injury, everything suddenly fell into place. I could see Gwen’s hands shiver as she gripped the phone tightly.

“I’m sorry. She was curious about how your birthday went, so…”

“No the fuck she wasn’t. Are you being for real right now? I-I actually don’t believe this.”

“Gwen...”

“I… I thought you told Ben or something. Zoey…? Why the fuck are you cozying up to that bitch after everything?”

“Gwen, I’m sorr-”

The phone turned off. She released the power button. All the tension in her hand had immediately dissipated. She looked defeated. Her mouth hung open, her eyes were dead, pointed at the steering wheel before her. Her hands, previously shivering from the centralized tension, were now hanging lifelessly at her sides.

And then came the scream. She screamed at the top of her lungs. I had never heard a girl scream like that until today. Not in elementary school, nor in middle school. It felt like something out of a horror movie. The type of scream that dredged up every ounce of the despair that a human being’s body could possibly muster up, was expelled in one, desperate yell. It was everything she had been bottling up for the past month. The realization that Zoey Brahm was looming over and controlling every aspect of her life had driven her to the brink.

My body was still reeled back even after the screaming had ended. Her bangs hung over her face, so I had no idea what kind of expression she was making. I couldn’t move. Gwen was radioactive. For a while, the two of us just sat there in silence. I, anxiously awaiting any kind of movement, and her, presumably lost in the hopelessness of the situation. It wasn’t until two or so minutes went by that she finally spoke up again.

“Why does she make everything in my life about herself?”

I didn’t respond. I was still in shock. She orchestrated all of that just to get me to leave Gwen’s side? She cut herself and concocted a bowl of fake blood? Is she legitimately insane? Are these the lengths she’ll go to have things go her way?

“I’m sick of this.”

She opened the car door then immediately ran towards the house.

“Gwen, wait!”

I ran behind her as she rushed up to the porch, and I managed wrap my arms around her before she could get to the door.

“Let fucking go of me! I’ll fucking kill her!”

“Stop it! Don’t do anything stupid!”

“She fucking knew, Tristan! She knew we were hanging out for my birthday, and she pulled this shit! She’s fucking with me! I know she is! She was fucking with me when she ruined Ben, and she’s fucking with me now!”

“Stop it!”

“No! I’m not going to stop! I’m gonna fucking… AH!”

She pulled herself into me suddenly and circled us around to shield herself.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Bee…”

“Bee?”

I turned around and found a small insect buzzing around near the door on Zoey’s porch.

“Gwen, that’s just a beetle.”

“I-I don’t know, okay? It sounded like a bee. I can’t risk anything with my allergies…”

Gwen’s small body no longer had any fight left. As my grip eased, she quickly slumped to her knees.

“Tristan…”

She turned towards me with tears rolling down her face, a smile barely cracking at the edges of her mouth.

“I can’t do this anymore. She’s the antichrist. Surely you see it now, right? The lies, the manipulation, it’s all right there. Please… just let me kill her. You’ll let me, right?”

Having listened to her poem, I understand exactly how much this girl had broken her. Zoey Brahm had shattered her heart into a million pieces, and her shoes were now stomping over the fragments as if they mattered not. Was I the bad guy for letting her take me here? Would it have been better if she never knew?

“I can’t let you.”

Whatever the answer to that question is, it doesn’t change the fact that I still belong to Zoey. I can’t just act against her interests. I can’t… right?

“Tristan…”

“Let’s get back to the car.”

Just like with Zoey earlier, I hoisted her arm over my shoulder then walked her back down to the car.

“Fuck this…”

The emotions inside of her needed an outlet. I could tell. My biggest fear was that she would do something crazy in the moment. If she couldn’t hurt Zoey, then who would she hurt? Who could she hurt? There was only really one answer, wasn’t there?

I let her slide back into the driver’s seat then returned to my own side. The doors were shut and the two of us sat in silence for a moment. Silence, outside of the sound of Gwen sobbing angrily at the unfairness of Zoey and her whims. We sat there for what felt like an eternity. Just us in the deafening interior of the car, her cries stifled within glass windows for my ears and mine alone.

I couldn’t look at her. Something told me that I didn’t even deserve to even see her cry. That it was my fault she was crying like this, and that she’d reprimand me if I so much as turned in her direction. But another part of me felt like this was the time to comfort her. To let her know that she wasn’t alone. But would she understand that? Or would she think that I just wanted to feel her touch as a man? Once again, my resentment of my own masculinity began rearing its ugly head. I hated being a man. I hated second-guessing every action I took around women out of fear of finding out that I had creepy ulterior motives.

“Tristan,” she said suddenly. I froze for a moment, my blood turning to ice, but then I found myself steeling my own resolve as I turned to face her, “The next time you talk to her, can you ask why?”

“Why… why what?”

“Why she took Ben away from me.”

Closure. That’s all she could seek now. With her relationship with Benjamin grinded to dust, finding the motives for Zoey’s callous actions was all she could ask for. She must have believed that such a selfish, destructive action might have had some thought or logic behind it. Did she change her mind about dating Ben? Or was she actively targeting Gwen? What was the reason for it? To be honest, I was curious about it too.

“Yeah, I’ll find out for you. So don’t do anything stupid before then, okay?”

“Okay… thanks.”

She wiped her tears and inhaled heavily in an attempt to unclog her nose, but she quickly gave up and blew into some tissue paper she took out from the storage compartment. I finally turned to face her since returning to the car. Streaks of her black eye shadow had crawled all the way down her face. Seeing her in this sorry state had left me with an eerie premonition. If Gwen and I truly were in similar predicaments, then it was as if I was looking into a crystal ball, staring down at my own future of heartbreak that was sure to arrive somewhere down the road. I could only believe that it was my own pessimism. And yet, in that moment, I was determined to risk it all to protect Zoey: the girl who hadn’t even asked how my day went.