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ASPHYXIATION: A LOVE STORY


"You want to be a shrink?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the desk that separated them. He looked at her blankly, this felt more like a job interview than a 'visit' with his sister.

Of course she had always been like that; putting a cold distance between herself and the rest of the world. There was probably some deep seeded problem in there somewhere but he didn't really feel like thinking about it.

"I already am, I just graduated with a degree in psychiatry," he replied politely, his hands laced together on his lap. She raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of her coffee.

"But John, you hate people," she said and he could feel a muscle twitch in his jaw. No, I just hate you, he thought, looking at her tight face that was looking tighter and tighter as the years went by. Maybe it would become so tight someday that it would just split in half and she'd die from massive blood loss, he thought.

"I don't hate people," he said slowly, licking his chapped lips. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't lie; you've been disgusted with the human race as a whole since you were four. I know I haven't seen you for a while but I don't imagine that you've changed that much."

He really did hate her; ever since they were kids he had despised her. He hadn't seen her in three years for a reason. So why was he here again? He thought about that for a moment, and then laughed. Ah, yes. Money.

"I hardly think that matters," he said, "A psychiatrist doesn't deal with people, they deal with problems." He finished, crossing his legs and adjusting himself in the stupid wicker chair that she had made him sit on when he had come in. Whoever thought of wicker chairs anyway? It must have been someone who didn't know that chairs were meant to be sat in.

"Oh really?" she laughed, he hated her laugh, it sounded like a cat being run over by a garbage truck, "What's your real reason John, I know you. You always have an ulterior motive."

He looked at her calmly.

"I'm writing a book," he replied.

"About?" she asked.

"Why people suddenly snap and do things that are 'out of character'. Like when a well established business man goes on a killing rampage in a grocery store or when an old woman suddenly jumps of the Brooklyn Bridge in some stolen lingerie," he said and she snorted.

"Oh really? How fascinating," she said, sounding bored. Oh enough of this, he thought, standing up and leaning forward over the desk so that they were face to face.

"I need money Julie," he said, staring her down.

"I figured as much," she said with a sigh, taking a quiet sip of her coffee. He looked down at the cup, it was really starting to annoy him the way she used the cup as a prop, she didn't even like coffee, she just liked to pretend to drink it to make herself look sophisticated and to give herself time to think.

"Look, I don't have enough money to pay for my student loans right now, I just need five hundred dollars to get me by until I find a job," he said, his eyes snapping away from her coffee cup.

"I don't know…. Five hundred dollars is a lot of money…" she said, shrugging. He could feel the muscles his jaw twitching again. Five hundred was nothing to her and they both knew it, she used that kind of money for toilet paper; she just liked playing with him.

"Give me a break Julie," he begged, feeling disgusted with himself.

"Hmm, well since you are my cute little brother I guess I can help you out," she said finally, "But I won't give you any money, I think I can find a job for you though."

"A job?" he asked, stepping back and sitting back down in the wicker chair.

"Yes, I have a friend down at the state prison. They're always in need of someone to psycho analyze all the crazies that come in there." She said, tapping her acrylic nails against the desk.

"Really?" he said calmly, trying not to get his hopes up.

"Sure, I'll call today and you can probably go over there tomorrow at about nine, just tell them Julie sent you," she said, smiling at him. He stared at her teeth and resisted grimacing; they were so pointy, he was sure she was some kind of demon.

"Right. I'll just go then," he said, unwilling to thank her for something she should have done without his begging.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
He arrived at the state prison at about eight forty five.

"Hello," he said, pressing a button on the wall and speaking into the intercom.

Why an intercom? He wondered; shouldn't there be guards standing outside of the prison so that people couldn't escape? They should be the ones greeting and escorting him, but then he looked around at the chipping walls and the rusting gate and sighed, maybe there were budget cuts, he thought, trying to justify the strangeness to himself. But if there were budget cuts why would they fire the guards first and not the psychiatrists? He sighed again; he had a bad feeling about this place.

"Who's there?" a man's voice replied through the intercom.

"John Dodder, Julie sent me," he said and he heard a clicking to his right and saw the gate to the prison open.

"Oh, come on in then." The voice said and John walked quickly through the gates. The closed behind him slowly and he was once again struck with how easy it would be for a prisoner to escape.

He quickly walked into the main office of the prison and was met by the same guy who had talked to him over the intercom. John stared at him for a minute; this guy had what could only be described as a face meant for radio. The giant hairy mole in the middle of his forehead was especially distracting.

"John Dodder eh? Nice to meet you, I'm the head psychiatrist here Doctor Mickey Drew," he said, holding out a hand that was a darker color than the rest of his body. John reluctantly shook it and after the handshake ended he discreetly wiped his now contaminated hand on his pants.

"Uh, pleasure's all mine," he replied, "When can I start evaluating some of the prisoners?"

"Actually now, we just got a new one this morning. All you have to do is go and check her out and decide whether or not she should take the insanity plea or not, pretty straight forward."

"Oh, well great," John replied, a little shocked about how well this was going, "Do you have a file on her?"

"Nope, she's never been arrested before." He said.

"Well what did she do to land her in jail? Drugs?"

"Not even close," he grinned, showing several missing teeth, "She blew up an abandoned house and kidnapped a rich senator's son and took him to Disney Land for the day; she brought him back at around ten that same night which is when she got caught." He replied wryly, scratching his abnormally large nose.

"Does she have a history with mental instability?" John asked, feeling a kind of excitement growing inside of him. This was too good to be true; a woman who has no criminal background suddenly snaps and commits crimes for no apparent reason. He could almost see his book.

"None. There's no evidence of it occurring in her family either. Normally I would've taken this case for myself but I'm pretty swamped with a mass murder down in the maximum security section, so I'll give this one to you."

"Um, thank you. Should I go and talk to her now or what?" he said, things were going way too easily, there had to be some kind of catch.

"Yeah, Penelope; that's her name by the way, is waiting in the office where we usually hold the therapy sessions. Just head on down there now, it's room one oh five." He said, waving in the general direction that room 105 was.

"Right."
_________________________________________________________________

"Hello Penelope, I'm Doctor Dodder," he said, walking into a small, smelly room with moldy red couches spread out half-hazardly throughout the room. She looked at him as he entered, her mud brown eyes looking happier than anyone in prison had any right to be.

"Hi," she said, smiling at him and standing up to nod at him politely. He couldn't help but notice the fat around her mid section and the spattering of freckles on her pale cheeks as his eyes quickly roamed over her plain features and down her dumpy body, finally settling back on her muddy eyes. She wasn't what he had expected, but in a way it was better that she wasn't attractive, that way he wouldn't have any qualms about milking her for all she was worth.

"Why don't you sit down," he said motioning to one of the softer looking couches; it still seemed to contain some of its original stuffing. She plopped down into the couch silently and John sat down across from her, "So, do you want to tell me why you're here?"

"Oh come on now Doc, we both know why I'm here, I broke the law," she said, raising an eyebrow at him and leaning back against the couch.

"Okay, fine. Why did you do it?" he asked, leaning forward and looking at her intently. She looked at him for a minute, studying his serious expression, the kind of expression that one has when they expect to get something that is due to them. She couldn't say that she liked that look.

"Why would I tell you something like that?" she said, cocking her head to the side and looking at him.

"Because if you don't you could be locked up in here for a long time," he said, lacing his hands together on his lap. She laughed at that.

"You're funnier than you look Doc!" she giggled, "What makes you think that I would be worried about that?"

"I don't know, most people seem to dread going to prison," he said, his expression not changing from its stony calmness.

"Well those people just don't appreciate how good of a learning experience spending some time in this kind of place is," she said, waving her hands in the air abstractly, "this kind of place really builds character."

He was starting to get irritated, this was not how it was supposed to go, she was supposed to answer his questions, pour her heart out, maybe even cry a little, but she wasn't doing what he wanted at all. He had to steer this conversation back on course.

"So…. what? You don't have a reason for committing these crimes? You just do it for fun?" he said and she frowned at him.

"Now I never said that Doc," she said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Then tell me," he said, leaning forward even more, that expect look on his face again.

"No." she said, leaning forward to match his posture.

"Why?" he asked, refusing to break eye contact with her, he would not lose to her, when it came to willpower he was always the victor.

"Because I said so," she said, smirking at him. Okay, he thought, this was obviously not going anywhere, he had to change tactics.

"Look, you can trust me; just tell me whatever you want to. I'm sure there must be something you've been holding up inside," he said, trying to make his face more gentle. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar right?

"Ugh Doc," she said, her face contorting with disgust, "Don't pull that crap with me, I can trust you with my personal thoughts and secrets about as much as I can trust a con artist with my social security number and ID."

His gentle façade faded immediately, he was almost glad that she had seen through it, that expression always made his face hurt.

"Okay, fine. What can I do to make you trust me?" he said, the smug expression that he had walked into the room with finally fading from his face. She smiled, he looked much better now.

"How about we play a game?" she asked and he blinked at her from behind his glasses.

"What?" he said, licking the dry corners of his mouth slowly.

"A game, it's called two lies and a truth," she said, her eyes laughing at him. He looked at her for a long moment, then his expression hardened slightly, as though he was resigned to his fate.

"Alright, how do you play?" he asked, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. He felt like he had lost to her somehow and he didn't like it.

"It's easy, I ask you a question and you answer it three times. Two of those answers are lies, but one of them is true. Don't worry; you don't have to tell me which one is true. It'll add to the mystery. Then you ask me a question and it goes on like that," she said.

"How do you know that I won't lie all three times?" he asked and her face softened for the first time during the entire meeting.


"I guess I'll just have to trust you," she said, smiling quietly, and he got the feeling that it was the first real smile she had shown him since they had met, and something inside him was shaken and disturbed by the softness he saw in it. Nobody ever looked at him like that.

"Okay, what's your first question?" he asked, shrugging off the rumbling and crumbling that was occurring in the backmost part of his brain. Whatever that emotion he was feeling was, it would have to pass eventually.

"Why did you become a shrink for a bunch of criminals?" she asked and he raised his eyebrows at her, he had expected her to ask a much harder question than that.

"I wanted to understand the mentality of the criminal mind after my mother was murdered by one," he said first, getting a little creative, "or maybe I did because I want to cash in and write a tell all book on the criminal mind, or maybe I just think it's interesting."

"You're a bad liar," she laughed, "I could tell which one is true the moment it came out of your mouth."

He frowned at her but didn't comment, "Why did you commit those crimes?" he demanded and she sighed, as though she was tired.

"Jeez Doc, you're so boring. Okay fine. Maybe I did it because my boring life finally got to me and I just couldn't take it anymore, or perhaps I did it simply because I couldn't think of a reason not to, and maybe I just thought that the world could use a little something extra to wonder about." She said, sounding bored.

"All those sound true," he said and she grinned at him.

"That's just because I'm a good liar."

"So which one is true?" he asked.

"Maybe all of them, maybe none of them, or maybe two of them, pick which one is correct Doctor Donner," she grinned, leaning forward a little so that he could see directly into her laughing eyes.

"This isn't a game!" he said, his calmness finally dissipating into his irritation.

"Oh I think it is," she replied, "Now I get to ask you two questions since asked me two in a row."

He was mad, he was irritated, he was frustrated, and he really, really felt like storming out of the room, but he knew that if he went along with her long enough she would eventually give something away, so he stayed.

"Go ahead."

"What will you do with all that money you hope to make off that tell all book you're planning to write?" she asked, resting her cheek on her fist and watching him expectantly.

He froze, he hadn't been expecting that. He tried to recover and think of two lies and a truth but no matter how hard he thought he couldn't think of why he had wanted that money. Why had he wanted to be rich? What was the purpose? That's when he saw his sister's face, tight and plastic, but smiling, gloating, laughing at him from behind her desk and he remembered.

"Maybe I don't want the money, just the fame, or alternatively I might just want to not have to work anymore," he paused for a second, "or maybe, I just want to have it so that I can be happy."

"How fascinating," she said, leaning forward and looking at him more intently than he was comfortable with, "Okay then, what do you think that happiness comes from? The money? Or what it buys? Or perhaps something else?"

"Excuse me? One question at a time please," he said, backing away from her a bit.

"Okay, just the first one then, where would this happiness you desire come from?" she replied. He ground his teeth together a little, he didn't like the way she could read him.

"Maybe I get happiness from the money itself, or maybe I get it from the idea that it would make my sister grimace and possibly die in anguish, and maybe I haven't even thought about it until now." He said and she blinked at him in surprise.

"Hmmm, those last two sound the most likely, but I honestly can't tell which one is the truth," she looked at him, her face crinkled up in a wide smile, "You suddenly got a hell of a lot more interesting Doctor."

John was pleased for a reason that he couldn't quite explain, and he smiled despite himself. He should quit while he was ahead, he was afraid that if he played this game too long she would unearth things that he wasn't willing to let her see.

"Let's stop this game and just talk to me honestly," he said, his calm therapist face back in place. She looked at him in surprise for a moment, so much for the relaxed atmosphere.

"Well I suppose we can stop, but I can't promise you that I will answer any of your questions or even tell you the truth," she said with a sigh.

"That's fine," he replied, adjusting his glasses.

"What's your question then?" she said.

"Will you do it again?"he asked.

"Do what?"she answered, tilting her head.

"Commit a crime, if you get out will you just go back to doing what you were doing?"

"Oh, most definitely," she said, laughing and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Why?"

She paused for a moment, leaning close to him and motioning him closer. Reluctantly he leaned in until her mouth was by his ear.

"Because I'm craaaazy," she whispered, licking her lips and pulling back, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I don't think you are," he said, staring at her mouth. He hadn't really noticed it before, but it was probably the only nice feature she had.

"Now why is that?" he mouth said, and his eyes snapped back up to her eyes.

"You're not erratic and delusional, or psychopathic either," he said.

"How do you know it's not all just an illusion? I could be playing you," she said.

"But you're not."

"How do you know?" she asked, her face entranced and focused on his, as though he was about to tell her the meaning of life.

He paused, seeing that look. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know why he knew, he just did. She wasn't crazy, annoying maybe, but not crazy.

"Hey Donner! Times up, come on Penny, time to get back to your cell," Doctor 'Mickey' said, peeking his head in.

They both snapped their heads around to look at him.

"Alright," John said first, standing up. He looked down at Penelope for a moment,

"We'll continue this conversation tomorrow."

She grinned, "Sorry Doc, I have other plans."

"What other plans could you possibly have? You're in prison," he said, raising an eyebrow at her and crossing his arms over his chest. She stood up and looked at him for a moment, squinting at him as though she was trying to see something far away in his eyes.

"Oh alright," she sighed, "I guess you can become part of my 'plans'. I'm still not
sure I like you, but I guess I'll give you a test run."

He smiled the smile that he always used when he had no idea what the other person was talking about and said, "That's a wise choice," and he left the room with Doctor Mickey.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning he woke up with a gun in his mouth.

"Rise and shine Doctor, our day starts now," Penelope said cheerfully, turning off the safety with a deafening 'click'.

His eyes widened and several things ran through his mind at once. First off, how had she gotten in his apartment without him hearing her? He must have at least twelve locks on his door, all of which he remembered locking last night before he went to bed….. but then he saw in his peripheral vision that his entire door was annihilated, hanging off its hinges and covered in bullet holes and splinters. Had he seriously slept through that?

Wait a minute, he thought, his eyes darting back to her face, how had she escaped from prison in the first place? Then the image of the rusty gate and the moldy walls of the prison flashed into his mind and if a pistol wasn't in his mouth he would've groaned, of course she escaped, that place was practically asking to be broken out of.

"Come on Doc, get up," she said, taking the gun out of his mouth and pressing it against his head. He did as he was told and stood up; out of the corner of his eye he saw his alarm clock, which said that it was still five A.M.

"Couldn't you have done this at a decent hour?" he grumbled. He didn't feel particularly scared, it wasn't that he wanted to die; something inside him told him that nothing was exactly as it seemed. For once he decided to trust that little voice, he had spent his whole life ignoring it and maybe it was time to try something new.

"You're pretty cheeky for someone who has a gun up to their head," she said dryly, pressing the cool metal against his cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly, ignoring her comment.

"I already warned you yesterday," she sighed, "Men. Hmmph, they never listen when a woman's talking but then have the gall complain about not being told about anything."

Yesterday? He thought, what the hell was she talking about… that's when it hit him. She had said she would include him in her plans, that she would 'test him out'.

"You remember now?" she asked, seeing the expression on his face change.

"s**t," he said, and she laughed.

"I'll take that as a yes. Come on, we have a lot to do today, and I'm not going to be holding this up to your head while we're in public but don't think you can escape, if you try I'll shoot you I swear to God," she said, lowering the pistol and pointing towards the now obliterated door.

"Right."

"So where are we going?" he asked after they had gotten into the car. He didn't really care anymore; at this point he was just going along for the ride.

"Finally you ask a good question Doctor, or can I call you John? It is John isn't it?" she grinned, gunning the engine and causing him to collide with the back of his seat. He was practically frothing at the mouth from the force of the impact but he somehow managed to choke out a reply.

"I'm not really in any position to say no now am I?" he said.

"True enough," she said with a shrug, taking a sharp turn and making his face collide with the passenger side window.

"Ow," he said, rubbing his forehead. This was starting to depress him a little, he had just started as a psychiatrist and he had already been kidnapped by a crazed patient.

"Do you like kids John?"

"Not particularly," he said, looking out the window and watching as buildings and cars passed by in a flash of color. Why was nobody stopping them? Where were the cop cars? The police sirens? He sighed, leaning his forehead against the window; this town sure knew how to take care of its people. Jeez.

"Why not?" she asked, taking another sharp turn and almost throwing him through the windshield. Thank g God for seatbelt's, he thought, clutching onto his for dear life.

"What?" he asked, realizing she had asked him a question.

"Why don't you like kids?" she repeated.

"I don't know, aren't they kind of annoying?" he said absently mindedly, still looking around for those stupid cops. With this kind of reckless driving some were bound to show up eventually.

"You only think that because you don't have any," she said quietly, and he turned to look at her. She looked almost….. sad. It was a strange expression on her face, it made her seem so defenseless and he felt a tug somewhere in his chest for her.

"What, do you have a kid or something?" he asked, ignoring his sudden chest pain.

"Used to," she said, not looking at him.

"Used to?" he asked, now all of his attention focused on her. She was young, way too young to have a kid.

"Do you know what Asphyxiation is Doc?" she asked suddenly.

"Isn't it where you die due to lack of oxygen?" he replied.

"Yep. That's it."
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't and by the time he thought to ask her what she meant they had already arrived at their destination.

"We're here," she said and he stepped out of the car.

"The zoo?" he asked, looking at the sign incredulously.

"Yes," she said, nudging him forward until they were inside the gates.

"What the hell are we going to do here?" he asked, looking around at all the people walking around. It was already nine O'clock and people were everywhere, men with little girls on their shoulders and women in shorts and sandals holding the hands of their children, and he started to get a sick feeling.

"Well I've always wanted a pet," she laughed and he gaped at her.

"Then get a puppy for God's sake!" he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. She giggled at his expression.

"I always wanted a lion cub though, a puppy just doesn't cut it," she said, walking ahead of him. Without even thinking about it he followed her, his face turning pale.

"You want to steal a lion cub!?" he hissed and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well I would buy it but I don't think they'll let me," she replied dryly.

"That is not the point!" he said.

"Oh I think it is," she said, walking a little faster. He matched her pace, his face turning paler by the second.

"Do you think this is a game!?"

"Of course it is," she said, stopping so that she could look him in the eyes, "It's all just a game. Life is a game, and everyone loses. So why should I bother playing by the rules?"

"What game!? There is no game, that's just an excuse you use so that you can invalidate all of your actions and feelings, so that they don't matter!" he said, getting a little angry. He didn't like the way she looked at him, it scared him.

"Well don't you sound just like a shrink," she said, "But maybe I'm not trying to make things less important than they are, maybe they never meant anything in the first place."

"What are you talking about?" he sighed.

"Nothing means anything at all John! Nothing! Think about it, we come into this world and come out of it learning nothing! Receiving nothing! Doing nothing! Why should I play by the rules when we're all going to die with nothing anyway?"

He didn't know what to say to that.

Her eyes bored into him, and he began to wonder how he could've ever said that they were 'mud' brown. They looked more like chocolate to him now, and they were tearing him apart. Nobody that young should be able to look like that.

"Come on, let's go get a lion cub," she said, her cheerfulness back. He followed her slowly, watching her closely.

When they arrived the lion's cage they were met with a major dilemma. The lion cub's mother was carefully protecting its cubs and John noted that her claws were very long and sharp.

"This is a bad idea," he said, "Please can I buy you a puppy? I'll even wrap it with a bow."

"No," she said, throwing her leg over the top of the wall that separated them from the pit where the lions were.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he asked, looking at her in shock. Was she seriously going to go for it?

"Maybe," she replied, climbing over to the other side and jumping down into the pit.

"God damn it Penelope!" he screamed, and before he could think about why he was going to try to save the woman who had made his life a thousand times more dangerous and annoying in the two days that he had known her, he jumped over the wall and followed her into the pit.

People had now gathered around the outside of the pit and were shouting at them to get out, but they both ignored the noise.

The lioness was looking at them, and a growl sounded in the back of her throat, causing John to step back a little but Penelope didn't seem to be intimidated and she took a step forward, pistol out in front of her.

"What the hell are you doing! It'll attack you before you can shoot it!" John screamed, his heart pounding out of his chest. For some reason he was more afraid now than he had been when there was a gun in his mouth, and he wasn't even the one in immediate danger.

"What are you still doing here?" she said quietly, turning her head around to look at him.

"What?" he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You heard me."

"Well, you're a patient, I wouldn't want you to do something so reckless…" he said, but even he didn't believe it. Why hadn't he just ran away? They both knew she wouldn't have shot him, that was why he hadn't been scared when she had kidnapped him. Something in her eyes said that she wasn't able to really harm anybody.

"Bullshit," she said, "Why don't you just leave. I tried you out, and you failed. You can go home now."

She took another step forward and everything seemed to go really slow. John realized something, she was on a mission. She believed in something and she was going to prove it to herself, she believed that nothing mattered, and she was going to show everyone just how little it really did.

"Shut the ******** up!" he screamed, more angry than he could ever remember being. He took a step forward and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her backwards by the hair and pulling her away from the enclosure. With his other hand he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back up the side of the enclosure.

When they had both toppled over onto the sidewalk, he was breathing hard and there were tears in her eyes.

"God damn John, I just wanted a lion cub, you didn't have to go psycho on me," she said, laughing her usual laugh, as though she hadn't just tried to kill herself.

For some reason that made him even madder than her getting angry at him would've.

Everyone was standing around them and asking them if they were okay and we nodded and said something about falling in and so on. They soon dissipated after we assured that that we were unharmed and we were left alone, lying on the sidewalk next to the lion enclosure.

"Why do you want to die?" he said turning his head to look at her sitting next to him.

"You really are a pretty bad listener for a psychiatrist Doc, I already told you," she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall.

"What are you talking about?'

Her eyes snapped open and she looked tired, "Just go. Please. Just leave."

He felt that strange feeling again, the twisting of his heart, the crumbling of something in his brain, the hollow ache that echoed throughout his body, and a little voice in his head told him to hold her. But he didn't.

"Fine, you can do whatever the hell you want! If you want to die it isn't my problem," he said, getting angry for no real reason at all, it just seemed like the easiest thing to do.

And he left her there, and she cried for a reason she didn't completely understand either.
________________________________________________________________

He couldn't understand why he was so frustrated, but he didn't want to sit around the house and mope about it so he decided to go to a bar and get smashed.

But instead of drinking he ended up having sex with a blond in a bathroom stall. It was dirty, it was rough, and she was exactly his type, normally he would've enjoyed it but that time he didn't. He did the polite thing and drove her home, she was heavily intoxicated, but he didn't follow her into her apartment. He just drove home and lay on his bed.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked the ceiling, lying on his back. It didn't answer him, but he could swear it was mocking him. He tried closing his eyes and falling asleep, but images of Penelope's plain freckled face kept popping up. Laughing at him, smiling at him, teasing him..... crying.

She had asked him about asphyxiation, about dying from lack of oxygen, and something about her son….. Was that it?

He suddenly shot out of his bed and ran over to his computer. What had happened to her son?

He googled her name and got a thousand results, which was kind of discouraging, but only one was from a newspaper and he knew immediately that that was the one. It read:

'Penelope Archer find's her son, Cristof Archer, who has been missing for the past month, washed up on shore. The coroner has stated that he died from asphyxiation by strangulation……'

He stopped reading after that. He slowly backed his chair away from his desk and leaned his head forward until it was against his knees. Death by strangulation. He had never liked kids, but that hardly mattered, because he liked her and her pain had suddenly became his pain. No, he stopped himself, he didn't like her. He loved her.

It had only been two days, but that hardly mattered. He loved her. He lifted his head up and wiped his eyes, realizing that they were wet. How strange, he thought, when was the last time I cried? He couldn't remember.

He looked back up at the ceiling, "I guess I should go find her huh?" he asked it and he swore that he heard it agree with him.
____________________________________________________________________________________

He reached the beach at midnight and he couldn't see a god damned thing. To top it all off he hadn't thought to bring a flashlight, so his only option was to wander around the beach shouting her name like an idiot until he found her. Which is exactly what he did.

"PENELOPE!!!" he shouted, over and over again. At first he was as blind as a bat, tripping over rocks and stumbling into the ocean but after a while his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to see relatively well. That was when he saw her.

She was sitting near the water, her knees pulled up close to her chest and something was lying neatly in front of her.

"PENELOPE!!" he screamed, and before he could think about it he took off running. She heard him and snapped her head up, then, seeing him running towards her, she grabbed the object that was lying in front of her and started running away from him.

Why did she have to make everything so hard? He thought to himself as he stumbled after her, trying not to trip over rocks and piles of sand in the darkness.

"Stop running away you b***h!" he screamed, and he slowly began to gain on her until he was right behind her. He lunged for her and knocked her to the ground, causing her to scream and try to squirm away.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" she cried, trying to get away, but he was lying on top of her and her face was in the sand so she couldn't really move much.

"I love you," he said.

"What?" she said, and he noticed that her voice sounded weird, as though she had been crying all night.

"I. Love. You." He repeated more slowly and he heard a sob come from her, her body shaking a little.

"Get off me," she said, and he did. She turned to look at him, the object still in her hands; he looked down at it and realized that it was the pistol from before. And the hands that were holding it were shaking. She wasn't looking at him, and he brought a hand out to touch her face gently.

"I love you," he said again, he kind of liked saying it. He couldn't remember the last time he had said it; he had never had any desire to, now he just wanted to repeat it over and over again, just to hear the sounds.

"How many times are you going to say that!?" she snapped, jerking her head away from his touch.

"As many times as I need to," he replied, grabbing onto her wrist and jerking her back to face him.

"You don't even know me!" she screamed, now she was looking at him and he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks in the reflection of the moonlight.

"I'm sorry about your son," he said quietly and she closed her eyes, laughing bitterly.

"Oh don't be," she said, the tears pouring freely down her face, "I took care of that."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, grabbing hold of both of her shoulders. That was when the cops came.

"Penelope Archer!" a voice shouted through a megaphone, "Come out with your hands up!"

The red and blue lights of the sirens hit them in the face and John could see her face clearly for the first time that night, and it was covered in blood.

"I killed him," she laughed bitterly, "I killed the guy who killed my baby, that b*****d that thought I wouldn't do anything about it, who thought I didn't have the guts. I killed my baby's daddy. Do you still love me now?"

He didn't even have to think about it, "Yes."

And they ran, they ran as fast as they could down the beach.

They held each others hand as they ran and he grasped hers as tightly as he could, it was so small and warm, he didn't ever want to let go.

"Stop running or we'll shoot!" the cops yelled, but they didn't stop, they couldn't stop. It was too late, if they were caught now, everything was over. She would go to jail, he might go as well, and they would never see each other again. So they ran.
A shot rang out and Penelope went down, dragging John down with her.

"She's down!" the cops yelled and began running towards them. John was frozen. He flipped her over and she was bleeding from the mouth, her eyes growing less and less bright.

"This kind of ending," she murmured, blood dribbling out of the corners of her mouth, "is a little too tragic isn't it?"

He laughed, the sound choking him and making the tears fall even more freely,

"Shut up," he said, blinking hard to try to stop the tears.

"I love you too," she whispered, closing her eyes and he could feel her heartbeat slowly fading, until finally, suddenly, but slowly, it stopped.

Her hand grew cold as the cops ran up but he didn't let go, only when they pulled him off of her did he let go. But even then he lay in the sand, wondering if life was really a game after all. A game where everyone loses.

_________________________________________________________________
For once she wasn't behind her desk, no, she was cowering up against the corner now, her tight face contorted with fear. It was quite amusing actually.

"Don't do this John!" she screamed, her eyes fixated on the pistol in front of her face. He laughed.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"B-Because I'm your sister!" she stuttered frantically, her face breaking out in cold sweat. He couldn't say it was an attractive look for her.

"I don't see your point, I mean, I hate you. So why shouldn't I kill you? How will your death make any difference? I mean, if I kill you now the world won't miss you, nobody will miss you. Especially not me," he said lightly, clicking the safety off on the pistol.

"P-Please," she sobbed, the tears running down her face and ruining her make up.

"I have to say Julie," he laughed, caressing the trigger with his fingertip, "You're not making a very good case for yourself."

She stared at his hand in silence, her eyes locked onto that trigger as though they were glued there, she was crying so hard that she was choking.

"Hey, have you ever lost anyone you were in love with?" he asked and she looked away from the pistol for a moment, to look him in the eyes. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Well I did," he continued, not minding that she hadn't answered, "Do you know what it feels like? It feels like you can't breathe, like you're going to die. But then, you don't. And you wake up realizing something. Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head, her face the picture of pure terror. He smiled and pressed the gun against her forehead.

"Life is just a game," he whispered, "and everyone loses."

Then he pulled the trigger.