“It’s a good thing for you that we are in public.” Dragon Lady smiled, sweetly. “Because otherwise, I would reach across the table and rip those pretty tits of yours off. But don’t you forget that the night is still young. Everything you say past this point will determine what happens when we get back to the black cells—and I have so many things planned for you, sweet girl.
“I’m going to become your life. I am going to become your only reality. You are going to have a long, exhausting life ahead of you, sweet girl. You will rise to the sound of your own screaming, and fall asleep to it at night. Pain will become your best friend. You will eat misery, drink agony, and live only to bring me pleasure in your suffering. And if you lie to me again, that life will get an early start.”
Überfrau
Lena had run a time or two in her young life. But even at the best of times, she had hated the experience and sincerely questioned whether or not a short, unhealthy life was preferable to a long one spent gasping and wheezing for breath. This time, however, the answer was quite clear: she wanted as long a life as she could possibly manage, and she would all-out sprint for the remainder of it, if need be.
You would have never guessed that a smoker could move this fast. Yet, fueled by the phantom pain of promised bullets screaming into her backside, she may as well have been an Olympic sprinter. She had no idea if Patrick was behind her, if he was laying on the ground, or if he was catching up. All she knew was that she was wasting precious seconds even considering it.
The crowd outside the venue was lazily shuffling about, waiting for the front gates to open. Some smoked, some drank, and some were making out silently behind a pillar. A larger percentage by the second, however, were beginning to take notice of the girl running headlong into them.
“Hey… look who it is!”
“No, no no no no no…” Lena screamed at herself, “Don’t recognize me! Please don’t recognize me!”
“It’s the Mad Bunny!”
Suddenly, the crowd perked up with curious energy. As Lena approached, one set of eyes became two, then four, then ten—suddenly, everyone standing outside of the venue was now looking at her and cheering wildly.
“Oh this is not good! There’s no way I can lose Patrick like this!”
“Hey, will you sign…” someone asked, as Lena shoved her way through the crowd.
“Sorry… sorry… sorry…” Lena apologized, as she ducked behind the crowd, trying to find her way towards the front door of the venue. “One stinky punker coming through!” she said, motioning the crowd out of her way. Contrary to her wishes, the crowd began to gather around her, blocking her passage.
“Where did you get your…!!”
“Are you single?!”
“Will you sing us a song?!”
“Are you single?!!”
Hands reached around her, offering what would have normally been a protective shield of friends and extended family. Now, they were a net that placed her in imminent danger.
“I’m so sorry!” Lena hazarded, as cheerfully as possible, “I have to get in for sound check!” Carefully, she looked behind her. Oh… she really shouldn’t have done that. Through the fog of hands, shoulders and multicolored hair, she spied the malevolent figure of Patrick, off in the distance, gathering himself off of the ground. Something about the way that he held himself seemed a silent promise to Lena… that once he found his way to her, whatever the original plan for her safekeeping was, it was now off. If Patrick found her, he was going to beat her within an inch of her life.
Lena moved slowly through the crowd, immured by human bodies as if trying to wade through grasping quicksand. As fate moved closer and closer, time slowed. The wobble of fear began to slow her steps as she finally made it to the front door of the venue where a bored bouncer stood, smoking a cigarette.
“I’m here!” Lena said cheerfully.
“Good for you.” the bouncer replied, not even looking at her.
“No, I’m… I’m here to perform!”
“Again, good for you.” the bouncer replied, just as unimpressed as before.
“No, I’m…” Lena stuttered, “Look, I’m the Mad Bunny! I’m the lead singer!”
“That’s great, sweetie.” the bouncer replied, casually looking at her before going back to his smoke.
“W-what the fuck is your problem?” Lena yelled, “Let me in!”
“Can we please not do this?” the bouncer said, apathetically. “Every show, there’s a million of you who try to weasel your way in. It’s not going to happen, ok? Get to the back of the line.”
“You just don’t understand!” Lena cried.
“Back of the line, sweet-tits.” the bouncer said, before putting a grubby hand up in front of her.
Lena looked back to see Patrick had reached the back of the ever-gathering line of people. He was walking quickly and looking about frantically, looking over every person and every face, searching for Lena. Tiny spiders of mounting fear and panic were creepy-crawling up her spine. She could feel his hands wrapping around her throat, choking the life out of her as flecks of spit smacked her in the face. Whatever Lena was going to do, she had to do it now.
“Would you four come with me?” Lena motioned at a few random fans. “I need some help loading gear.”
“Wait… really?” a young man with bright blue hair and the craziest red fedora that Lena had ever seen said. His friends, two women with hair so colorful it bordered on ultraviolet, seemed even more cheerful than he was.
“We’re not that strong!” one of the girls whined. “Aren’t musician things heavy?!”
“Trust me,” Lena smiled breathlessly, “you’re perfect!”
Lena hazarded another searching look for Patrick. She’d lost track of him! With panic boiling over, she tried to maintain control while casually ushering her volunteer stage hands along.
“This way!” Lena said, walking slowly back down the line. “Come on, I’ll get you all backstage.”
Silently, she scanned the crowd for Patrick—he was bound to see her the very second she walked past. Unless…
“I like your hat!” Lena said to the young male walking in her makeshift posse. “Can I try it on?”
“Hell yeah you can!” he said enthusiastically, offering her his hat.
“Here, you can try on my jacket.” Lena quipped, disrobing and offering it to him.
“I think it’s a little small for me, but I’ll try!”
“Logan, don’t fuck up her jacket!” one of the girls swore.
“It looks terrible on you already!” the other girl laughed, as the boy, Logan, struggled to fit inside the diminutive confines of her jacket.
As nonchalantly as she could manage, Lena led the group down the line. She knew full well that she would pass Patrick at some point—indeed, it was the only chance of survival that she had. Stifling the urge to walk briskly (and draw his attention, wherever he was), she adopted a casual shuffle, making sure to keep the brim of her hat low.
Suddenly, she saw him—there he was, weaving in and out of the crowd, frantically searching for any sign of her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Lena screamed at herself. She switched places with one of the girls quickly, and fell back behind Logan, putting his body between herself and the view of Patrick. As she walked closer and closer, she sped up slightly to keep Logan perfectly between them.
Ten paces… seven paces… five paces… three…
Now she was directly perpendicular to him…
Three paces… five paces… seven…
“Hey, don’t walk so fast!” Logan complained, as the group struggled to keep up.