Miss Angelina [✔]

[3] Epiphany

The two had been silent for most of the journey from the forest into town.

They had whispered together, of course, but avoided my gaze. I embraced this because there is so much more to appreciate when we believe we can hear perfect silence. I can take notice of the breaths they were making, lined with such patience and slenderness.

The boy in the back had been whistling. I wasn't surprised as I had taught him to do so when he felt defiant or brave. It has been on and off throughout driving through the city - and when he stops, I can briefly hear him taking deep breaths. I note the faces of the drunk and promiscuous on the streets. I take in the five-inch heels, and the tight-fitting dresses on the sultry females that display their assets just right, and I take in the groups of men with alcohol swayed walks.

I can only imagine these men will take advantage of these women. Violence and corruption is a very prominent aspect of this town, and women in heels cannot hope to run away from a determined assault. A woman could just be passing by an alleyway and be swept up in a small group. Her friends would be blissfully unaware until they find out she's been missing a few hours later. It's possible that they turn up alive and well the next day but other times they aren't so lucky.

I remember the first time I drove through this city with a man in the back; I had to sedate him, and it was a terrible business. The morphine mixed with his Atarax and his nerves had begun to get the better of him. I had barely managed to heave him through two rooms of my home, my palace, my haven. He dripped blood all over my new wooden floor. He was dead the next morning, which was a terrible shame, if only because he had such loving eyes.

"Miss Angelina, do you suppose, at some point..." Florence had begun, stopping a short conversation with Cleo. I raise my hand to her and put my finger to my lips. There were red lights ahead of me, and a group of people surrounding the street, and this van wasn't keen on keeping conversations inside while it was immobile. "Miss Angelina, I was only going to ask if I could... If we could go into town tomorrow night. Shan't you be done by then?" I had forgotten that Florence isn't permitted to leave the house without myself or someone I trust.

I open the dashboard in front of me and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I offer the open lid to Florence, who politely shakes her head, but Cleo grabs one quickly and places it between her lips. I end up shrugging her off and taking one out for myself, putting it between my lips and throwing the pack towards her. She takes the initiative to collect the lighter from her pocket, and snaps open the lid.

I eye up the yellow lights of the traffic and then take a glance up at the glowing sky. It's past midnight at this point I decide and roll the cigarette along my lips before I see the bright spark from the lighter. Florence seems mesmerised by the beauty of the glow, and reluctantly pushes it towards Cleo first, keeping eye contact with me. Cleo leans towards the light, ignoring Florence's lack of will.

"Do you prolong their deaths because you're shortening yours, Miss Angelina?" Florence mumbles, not directing the question at me, much more focused on the light between us.