“Why did you have to do it so hard?” I massaged my stomach while watching the flames crawl out of the creaky store. The wind fanned the fire, causing them to grow strong quickly. Burning dead bodies—funny that this was the second time I had done it.

“We’re about to leave, and you’re still on about that?” Deen checked if there was any dried blood still sticking to her hair.

“It’s like you were digging my intestines through my belly button.” That was what the navel was connected to, right? Intestines? I didn’t want to ask because that sounded like a stupid question. What were navels for, anyway? Umbilical cords were connected to them, so maybe—here goes my brain wandering again. I stuck to what I meant to say to Deen, “To be clear, that was inserting compared to poking. The latter is what I did. You, on the other hand—”

“Don’t be such a crybaby exaggerating stuff.” She poked my side. Surreal that we were bickering as corpses burned before us. “I just copied you. Eye for an eye, Code of Hammurabi. We’re implementing one of the oldest legal codes of human history.”

“Not even inserting,” I continued my rant. “More like stabbing my belly button.” Several minutes had passed—we had washed our hair and started the fire—and the phantom sensation of Deen’s finger in my abdomen remained. I wouldn’t be surprised if she made it deeper with how forceful she did it.

“You’re welcome to do the same to me. Then I’ll do the same to you, and so on.” She sighed melodramatically. “A never-ending cycle of revenge.”

“An eye for an eye wasn’t supposed to work that way.”

“Do you want to poke my eye?”

“No! Let’s go. We don’t want passing cars to see us here.”

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I was supposed to nap and take over driving later, but sleep wouldn’t come after all the excitement of the night… or day? It was definitely daytime now. The sun peeked over the horizon, its light creeping over the mostly flat desert. The cold wind became warmer. Deen had opened the car’s windows because the smell of rubbing alcohol from all the cleaning we did was suffocating.

I stirred when she closed the window, wondering why she did it. The clean desert wind was refreshing on my skin. The reason showed up on the side mirror. “Oh, there’s a car coming up.”

“Don’t want them to see our faces,” Deen explained, turning down the slow jazz music. “Ugh, I should’ve covered my license plate too. I thought of it only now. I’ll just slow down so they’d pass us faster.”

“If you covered your plate, then it’ll really be suspicious,” I pointed out. “Don’t worry about it. People don’t memorize the plates of other cars on the road.”

“True. Sorry for waking you up. Do you prefer the windows closed?”

“No. To both, I mean. You didn’t wake me up—I couldn’t fall asleep. And better just keep the windows open.” The piercing odor of alcohol had diminished. The hint of sugariness from Deen was taking over. Still not sure where that was from because she said she didn’t use products with that scent. It must be the fabric softener of her clothes because it’d be crazy if that were her natural smell.

“Something on your mind?” she asked. “Want to talk about it?”

Obviously, I couldn’t tell her I had fun letting loose on annoying people. I had been replaying my hunt in my head. That was why I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I went with, “You said, ‘fuck,’ back there. You also said that the other time I poked your navel."

“Just let it go already,” Deen groaned. “I try not to cuss if I can help it. No more belly-button poking, inserting, or stabbing so I wouldn’t say it again, deal?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Deal!” Then we laughed like braying donkeys.

Well, I looked like a donkey while Deen maintained her poise. It was rare for me to have this relaxing time, just doing stuff with no consequences. Deen probably didn’t share my reason for laughter. Hers was out of relief, from what I could tell.

“You’re like a sister I never had,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes as our laughing spree ended.

What about your own sister? I wanted to quip, but I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole. What was I supposed to say here? I didn’t want to agree with her statement—no way I wanted her as a sister. I’d always be known as the ‘plain sister’ if that was the case.

“Thanks for everything, Deen,” I said, settling for generic lines.

Deen casually placed her hand on my leg, slowly tapping my knee with her fingers in tune with the music. “Just go back to sleep.”

Remove your fucking hand first. But I didn’t push her away. Not a good look right after she mentioned she considered me a sister, though sisters probably didn’t do this. “I’ll try,” I said, closing my eyes.

She turned the music up a while continuing to play the piano on my knee. Her fingers crawled up my leg. The music reached a part with a guitar playing sleepy notes. Deen raked my thigh like she was strumming a guitar. She hummed while doing it. How did she expect me to sleep with her doing this shit?

Was she doing this, thinking it’d help, like cradling a baby?

It might be my fault she thought it was okay to do this—I challenged her to the leg massaging battle earlier. That was supposed to mess with her, but she now thought I liked this—stupid me.

I relaxed my muscles and slowed my breathing like I was dozing off. I should’ve stopped her right at the start. Now, it was awkward to wake up and push her away. And she’d take it the wrong way, like I was ungrateful. Maybe I could lean to the side? Scoot closer to the window, away from her reach?

She’d notice that I was pretending. Better sit here and force myself to sleep. Don’t mind, Deen, I chanted. I counted sheep in my head. Then the sheep turned into people lining up to be killed. My hands turned to claws, and I swiped their heads off one by one—a nice dream.

I drifted in and out of a cozy slumber while Deen continued to do whatever she wanted with my bare leg. Her hand mostly just rested on my knee. A few times, she caressed my thigh. One time I woke up to her hand parked between my legs. She wasn’t doing anything. I shifted just a tiny bit, and she hastily removed her hand.

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Again, I woke up. This time, it wasn’t because of Deen’s shenanigans.

The sound of honking cars told me we had entered Las Vegas. I should’ve taken over driving so she could rest, but she didn’t wake me. Such a considerate friend. On the other hand, I looked inconsiderate, just letting my best friend do all the work.

The car slowed to a halt. Faint sounds of other engines nearby. We must’ve stopped for a red light. I kept my eyes closed, still pretending to sleep. I’d wait for Deen to wake me and ask for directions to my condo building. Then I could say how tired I was and all that.

Squeaking leather. Deen was moving in her seat. The sugary scent. She leaned toward me. I could hear her faint breathing despite the music. What is this bitch up to? Was she going to shout to prank me? Was a poke incoming? I steeled myself while keeping my body relaxed so she wouldn’t notice I was already awake.

“Okay, one last time,” she whispered.

One more time? Meaning she had done this before? More than once, it seemed. And, most importantly, what was this? What had she been doing while I was asleep?

A slight bump on my cheek. Was she kissing me? Something pressed on my cheek that I was sure wasn’t her lips. A finger? It traced a line from the side of my face to my ear. I resisted the urge to lash out as that something wiggled inside my ear.

Its movements weren’t that of a finger. Too wiggly, too soft. It felt wet and a bit sticky. Also, I could feel breathing right in my ear, hot air blowing. Is this insane cunt tonguing me?

I struggled to keep my body relaxed as a shiver of repulsion surged. I wanted to pull out Deen’s tongue from her mouth. Fortunately, she stopped it before I ended our friendship… and her life. I wouldn’t be surprised if her Guardian Angel told her to cut it out.

But she wasn’t done.

Next, she nibbled my earlobe. This… wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all. I like—no! Guardian Angel, do you want your master to die? Deen released my ear between her teeth, probably not due to her Guardian Angel. The car behind was urgently honking.

“Oh, it’s a green light.” She revved the engine, and the car lurched forward.

I didn’t move, just thinking, what the fucking fuckity-fuck was all that?