Nell leaned out the tiny slot of a window in her apartment, toying with a cigarette between her fingers. The rain was rumbling down and driving away anybody who might’ve surfaced from their cramped apartments or luxury offices back into the confines of the city–as usual. Despite the storm and the shadow of night, Richmond still twinkled bright. Night clubs flashed their neon, office buildings still towered in their golden glow, and run-down monuments continued to collapse around their ancient gas lights. As she started to spend more time in the real city, Nell has grown attached to it all. It’s become something of a second voice to consult or a mirror to reflect in; odd, considering how terrified she once was of it.

Nell still replayed that night as if she was standing there amidst the flames again. The wounds were scabbed over and the Fire Fighters moved on, but it still haunted her. Even with side gigs here and there, they never could clear her like they once did. The flurry of emotions still rushed inside her head and threatened to burst out. She tried to make some sense of it. Was it guilt? Shame? Fear? Perhaps all three? Despite the cloud of doubt haunting her, she could peek a glimpse of what it hid. She tried to look away, yet it kept drawing her eye.

She was a terrible person. She had lied, stolen, cheated, manipulated, hurt–

She ruined lives. She drove people to the edge. And for what? A pretty high-rise and corner office? Where was that now?

The deep scar of failure still stung. Not only did they suffer, but it meant nothing now. Their sacrifices built Nell up only for it to get knocked down. Everything, everything culminated in a net zero. No– a net negative. The only outcome was everyone’s worse off. Nobody. Won.

Nell took a long drag and spat out a thick cloud of smog.

Repent for your fucking sins. I know I’m not the only one, and I won’t ever forgive you until you do.

That line was probably what crowded Nell’s thoughts the most. She considered it for so long it became an abstract, a vision, a mirage. She obsessed over the meaning day and night. How, Adam? How?

How do you make something so horribly, horribly wrong, right? For someone who’s never repented, how do you start?

She felt an obligation but couldn’t find the sense to fulfill it. She starved for Adam’s forgiveness but couldn’t feed herself. Her heart tightly wound itself in her chest with every passing minute. How? How? How?

The knocking at her door shocked Nell from her incessant ruminating. It finally led her to notice she had smoked the cigarette to the filter in one breath, earning a harsh cough. She flicked the butt out the window and stumbled to the door. Through the way she pounded her chest to expel the smoke before answering.

She couldn’t believe who was behind the door. Out of everyone in the world, it was the last woman she ever expected to show up.

She was just slightly shorter than Nell, the top of her head lining up at eye level. She dressed in a tasteful, conspicuously subtle street style; if she was in a Richmond crowd she’d blend in, but if you caught her eye you’d be entranced. Her whole aura radiated it. Sheets upon sheets of jewelry made her glint even under the dimmed fluorescents of the apartment building, yet the coyness in her gaze was the brightest. Her thick pitch black hair was suffocated under a cap labeled “MEDIA.” When she spoke, her voice was like the lulling song of a bow drawn across the strings of a violin.

“Nell Miller. Long time no see.” She flashed a grin– But not one out of fond remembrance. It was more so like a triumphant grin before the final blow in a chess match.

“C-Corey . . . How the fuck did you find me?” Nell murmured in amazement.

“What do you think buzzards like me do all day, hm?”

“Well, got me there.”

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“You look different. Really different.” She pondered the scars on Nell’s face, but didn’t linger. Instead, she directed her attention to Nell’s jacket, examining the skeletal designs and neon lining. “I didn’t realize you were into Grotecore. Did you become fourteen in the meantime?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Nell sighed, exasperated. “It’s a cool jacket!”

“Uh-huh. Oh! And what’s this?” Corey dramatically gasped. She pushed up part of the sleeve to expose the cybernetics on Nell’s arm. Along the side of her arm was clear plating exposing the internal nerve replacements laced in her muscles. Nell could feel Corey’s heartbeat pick up in tempo. “Director Miller got herself wired? The scandal!”

“That’s, er . . . not my title anymore,” Nell reminded.

“Of course. You’re just Nell now. How’s that feel?”

“I–Corey, are you recording right now?” She cautioned. She always had to double-check before they spoke back in the day, and the instinct still lingered.

Corey fluttered her eyes. “Not anymore.”

“Neon. Now that that’s out of the way, why are you here? Of all places?”

“You know why I’m here, Nell. After those articles came out and the defense debacle, you went radio silent. I’ve had nothing to write about for the past six months! You owe me.”

Nell glanced down and saw Corey toying with the loose tie still hanging around her neck. Nell felt her face flush red. “And who wouldn’t love to hear about the disgraced Waltaire exec living it up in the slums? I wouldn’t have to worry about rent for a whi-le with the Mints that article’d fetch me.”

“I-I shouldn’t–”

Corey sharply tugged on Nell’s tie, bringing the two close enough until their breaths could mingle. Nell could feel both their nerves get driven to the intoxicating edge. She had to resist the urge to wrap her hands around such a familiar waist.

“Really? Not even for old times sake? I know I’m not the only one who’s missed it.”

Nell was ready to give in. But, everything that’s happened lately still nagged in the back of her mind, even when she tried to suffocate it. This she didn’t do, couldn’t do anymore.

She pushed Corey away. “No, not this time.”

Corey’s brow furrowed in confusion. “ . . . What? You’ve always done this.”

“Well, not anymore,” Nell shot back. “I’m done with that game.”

“Pft, really? When has Nell Miller been done?”

“Now, is when.”

Corey intently studied Nell’s gaze. She was utterly astounded at such a revelation. “Why?”

“I . . . I can’t get into it right now. But,” Nell huffed. “I gotta change, y’know . . . everything.”

Corey was now astonished. A hopeful glint flickered on her gaze and quickly disappeared.

Suddenly, Nell got a text from Corey. The notification flashed in the corner of her vision. When she opened it up, it was an address.

“What is this?”

“A place to start. If I get my way, something big’ll happen, and I’ll get my due.” She snickered. “Fucking or not, it’ll get settled.”

“Uhm, thanks.”

“If you ever change your mind, though, you have my number. We can pretend this shithole is your old place again,” she purred. With that, she turned and made her way from the stairs. As quickly as she slipped back into Nell’s life, she slipped back out, leaving her breathless. Seeing Corey again felt strange, something so nostalgic yet foreign. It truly felt like it was a past life away; the passion and staged intimacy was all a facade, but a dear one. Finally watching it as the falsity it was felt like getting exposed to the world, but if the world was one person. The blinders were finally lifted off.

Nell slunk back into her apartment and settled on her couch to research what the hell she was left with. A few searches later, she found that the building was a crumbling office space from the early 21st century. The plastic geometric architecture was worn away to expose a piss-poor construction of a building; a common phenomenon for a lot of gentrification-era buildings. Something about it made Nell feel uneasy, but she couldn’t pinpoint what.

So, she called Erica. In a couple rings, she answered.

“Nell! You never call, what’s up?”

“Yeah, er, I have something I think I’ll need help with. Does Arkie want anything from us tomorrow?”

“Nah, we got the day off. Is this an all-day type gig, or . . ?”

“Probably. Can you do it?”

“Really invitin’,” she said dryly, but Nell could hear the smile in her voice. “But yeah, sure. I’ll come to your door at 11.”

“Neon, thanks Erica. See ya then.”

“Night, Nell.”

Erica hung up, leaving Nell alone on her couch. She flopped onto her back and studied the cracks in the ceiling. Once again, she fell into her cyclone of thoughts.

How? How? How?