a hopeless romantic | r.s

Chapter Nine

Lane blanched. This, she had not known.

Why hadn't he told her?

"How is dat unfortunate fa me?" she questioned hesitantly.

"'Cause we don't much like tha people who find our victims foist," Frisks explained in a sickly sweet tone, "'n if ya don't keep yer big mouth shut 'n tell all yer little newsie friends 'bout it, he'll be tha next on our list."

Lane scoffed, repulsed by the girl, but also frightened. She knew what Frisks was capable of. "Do ya even realize how insane ya sound?"

"No one's sane," was her absent reply, looking off at an invisible point on the wall. "No one's safe."

"Not wit you around."

"Let's take a trip down memory lane, shall we?" Frisks said suddenly, turning towards her. "It was our job ta frame oth-ah people fa things we did."

Struggling to draw in a breath, Lane pressed her nails into her palms against the rising memories. Don't. Don't listen. Don't remember. Don't give her what she wants. "Yer real dense, ain't ya? I know. I was dere."

"They gave us orders, 'n we did dem without complainin', jus like tha obedient dogs we was," Frisks continued, pretending to have not heard her.

"Don't think dat hasn't changed," Lane hissed. "I thought that time in tha Refuge would be enough ta get ya ta change yer mind 'bout 'em, but I guess not."

"Stop interruptin'," Oscar snapped. Lane gritted her teeth, having forgotten they were there.

"They gave us orders," Frisks repeated quietly after a moment. "And we was sent out ta complete 'em. Dey said dey would treat us well if we made good. So, we made good."

After a moment, when Lane was sure she wouldn't be attacked for speaking, she said, "And look at how well dat turned out fa us."

A muscle twitched in Frisks' jaw, before she turned around, gesturing to Lane's brothers. "These two was a great help during me time in tha Refuge, y'know. Turns out, they'd been involved fa as long as you 'n I. Maybe even long-ah."

Lane's betrayed gaze darted from brother to brother. "What? No. We woulda known. I woulda known."

"Well, ya didn't," Morris spat. "Ya weren't tha only one affected by Ma's death, as much as ya like ta think ya was."

"We planned it togeth-ah," Frisks said, approaching Oscar's side. "Tha army 'a kids, I means. Tha day yer friend wit tha crutch came in, was tha day we presented tha idea ta all of 'em. He was passed out- we made sure 'a it. We didn't want a woid 'a it ta get ta Manhattan."

"Ya coulda done it all on yer own," Lane hissed, knowing all too well that she could've. "Why get tha Refuge kids involved?"

"Dey was all ready ta get revenge," Frisks told her. "Why put dat ta waste?"

"You've corrupted 'em!" Lane exclaimed. "Dey think yer givin' 'em freedom, but really, yer jus givin' 'em a life dat they'll regret once dey come ta their senses!"

"Sound famili-ah?" Frisks sneered.

"I left fa a reason," Lane said simply, gritting her teeth. "Shame ya didn't, too. Ise happy wit me life."

"Liar." Frisks eyes glinted. "You've been thinkin' 'bout yer time wit us ev-ah since ya left, but still, no one knows 'bout it."

"Ise gonna ask ya dis one more time," Lane snapped. "Was it you wit Smalls? Yer tha reason she's dead, ain't ya?"

"It don't make a difference," Frisks told her curtly. "Dat pathetic goil is dead either way."

Lane sneered at her. "You little..."