they're in some odd dimension where apollo is the one trying to defuse the situation. oh, he's working that charm. gold grins, silver tongue. a couple of touches to her neck and hip to calm her. but she's already on go mode. by the time 'what do ya say?' left his lips, she broke off from behind him. and as soon as she stormed off, the knives were out. apollo puts his hands up like he was still trying to calm the storm, but they stepped forward. not that it stopped her.
her movements were instinctual. she's fast enough to run up with a few steps, tall enough to reach past the few goons trying to guard the woman who spoke. one quick blow, a little 'dink' to check her. but hard enough to let the message rattle in the smoothness that was her brain. “bitch, don't you ever—” she's twice the other's size so it takes nothing to knock her back. she falls over as chima gets snatched back by two men. yanking away, she gets a sneakjab into the head of one. yelling obscenities and exchanging middle fingers. the middle finger is always universal.
“yeah, watch your mouth!” the women yell back and forth, with the other crying and shrill as chima continues to scream and growl. “I. DON'T. GIVE. A. F***KKKKKKKK WHAT YOUR FAVORITE RAPPER SAYS, YOU STUPID ASS—” the men are yelling in vietnamese to apollo, each standing in a threatening manner. he moves towards them as they step his way. one stuck him, but the return was the man having a knife in the side of his head. "call off ya' goons. ALL of them." his shades taken off.
but before anything can go more left, a staff member comes up to them both.
'madame. sir. i apologize, but we're going to have to ask you to leave. we have a strict rule against fighting—'
by this time, she's heated as all hell. “what?! i paid close to $1500 for our rental! i want my money back, then!”
'our policy has a strict no refund clause, if our code of conduct is violat—'
she didn't even let the other finish his statement. she grabs the first thing she sees - a metal serving tray - and she flings it like a frisbee at the host' head. “f*** this place! y'all will be hearing from my people! best believe that!” DC jumping out of her, but she storms past everyone, shoulder checking another server while going out.
by now, there was a primal fear in the room. that knee tremble was all he needed to roll his shoulders and start after chima. inked hand pointed back, blood on his hands but he pulled a knife out and wiggled it. "you don't want this fight." the women was yelling at the men to attack, but they knew it wasn't worth it.
as she gets outside, she's digging in her clutch for another shot bottle. once found, she's tossing it back and tossing the bottle, breaking it with a clash. but as she is about to turn the corner, she hears a commotion. yelling once again in vietnamese, a few goons are at the karaoke bar entrance. these look more official, in suits. both men pull guns and start shooting, causing others on the street to flee. chima, however, freezes up.
it was like slow-mo, the way he walked towards her. he didn't run; the bullets were already flying and the look on his face said it all. last time she got shot, he tore up the underbelly of london with all the power of a mortal man. and that violence was too much for her.
once his mother was gone, the energy shifts from awkward to just weird. a bit of irritation and jealousy. he didn't like anybody by his mother. 'you like me, aren't you? you ain't normal.' naturally so. she never dealt with normal people. men or women. attracted oddballs the way she attracted ghosts, apparently. though maybe ghost isn't the word. both got warm bodies. but yet, being from the past always made you a haunt. 'why are you back here?'
finally sitting up he patted the couch, “i'll have to make you some my chicken parm, but yeah, we are similar. but you came back cause ya' jealous, don't want no one near ya' mom. i understand that, but it makes ya' feel off huh?” shot in the dark, but he stood up and moved to the mini fridge. him and those damn lil hug juices.“what color you want? blue, red, green or purple?” he asked, peeking back at the boy before smiling once more.“i was never normal, but you can see it. aint nothin' in me. well you know what i mean.” laughed but he shrugged getting himself a blue one and then waiting to see if malik would answer.
he wasn't one of many words. only in a past life, back when he was still above the ground. much like apollo, malik seemed to speak when needed. though begrudgingly, he took a juice. red, same as his mom. he nodded in a quick thank you, taking a sip. then drinking fast. doing that thing were he inhaled anything given to him. still wanting more. so he got a blue one as well. 'why you like my mama?' he wasn't there for pleasantries. didn't trust nobody by her.
hand raised, slowing the pace of the boy but not denying it. “slow down, plenty there.” smile still on lips, there was a softness to him but still mad as hell. he got straight to the point so he motioned to the seat beside him. “ya' mama seen somethin' in me that no one did, even myself when i was alive. part of the reason i am this way now is cause she saw that. i was a bad man, but i was bad to badder people. that makes sense? i was violent, i will always be violent. but she seen something in that, reminded me that if i kept being that i would be no better than the people that needed to be hurt.” plain and straight, boy was a boy but he didn't need to be tip toed around, not like that.
malik didn't respond at first. even dead, he was still a kid. half of it made no sense, the other half he didn't care about. knowing this guy was like him only meant no good. his mama had a thing for weirdos. this one was the weirdest. 'so you a bad man. is that how you ended up there? who put you in that place?' its stuffy there. purgatory felt like a feverdream in a sardine can. his anger is subsiding but he still feels distrustful.
“see thats where we different. im not there, im real, im here in the time. im tryin' to figure out whats got you wrapped up in there.” apollo shook his head at the question, “i got me here, but thats a story from another time, ill tell you it, but we gotta shake ya' of that jealousy and anger. cause that aint what makes a boy grow. ya' don't wanna be a weirdo like me, thats how i grew up.... less jealous more rage, hunger. so how about this, i know ya' don't trust me.” hands up like he was surrendering, “i'll make us some chicken parm, and if its good, we can talk a lil more. that sound like a plan?” offered hand, more of a high five then anything.
Tonight is an average night for most families, hers included. Hers isn't average, but they are. At least currently, they indulged in average behavior. She's in the kitchen, stirring a skillet. The aroma of cooking onions and peppers are heavy in the air, another pot to her left having a low simmer on it. Black-eyed peas, of course. It's a new year. New year, new mindset. No more worrying, just controlling what she could. The steady rotation of ghosts who hang around her became the norm. And Raq is blessed with her father's eyes so she can see them too. No more of his stealthing, as Malik liked popping up to scare the soul from her. From his sister. Because like it or not, that's what they were. Siblings. And she's trying not to trip as they circle her while chasing each other. Sibling behavior and such.
“Malik! Leave her alone and set out plates.” Her son is grumbling and doing as he is told. A price for coming back is this insatiable hunger, where Malik eats anything in front of him in the most brutish manner. Setting the table is more beneficial for him than pestering Raquel. “Okay you two. The food is done.” Removing a tray to reveal cooled off honey flavored cornbread. Debating if she should leave another plate, should a demon decide to join for dinner.
But all of this is interrupted with an abrupt knock. Followed by impatient buzzes of the bell. Front Door! Her security system sings off as more thumps are heard. Hard knocks. The type they gave when they bust your door down without warning. Her mind flickers to losing Malik, wondering if this knock would've been the same, had they given them that courtesy.
The rough knocks feel like omens.
And was. Staring through the peephole with a quiet shock. Not sure what to make of who stood at their door. But she opens it all the same. “Alana, what are you doing here?” She can't help but read as tense now, staring at the ex of her ex. The mother of Raquel. Her gut told her what it was, Alana just confirmed. “I'm here to get my daughter back.”
Silence felt like shattering glass. Her brain is struggling to compute, but Alana barges in anyway. “Mom?” Oh, it stung to hear it. But Chima just swallows, her mouth starting to feel dry. “Raquel, go get your things please.” She turns to Chima, sighing in a begrudging manner. “Look, I had no idea her father would run off and leave her. Not with a woman he clearly ain't serious with. I didn't even know your name until a month ago.” Another jab to the gut, that burning sting of the reminder of yet another failed relationship. All she had left was her 'family', which she was losing.
And legally, she can't do a damn thing about it.
Chima's arms are crossed as she tried to stammer any excuse she can. Desperation is seeping in now. But ultimately, the girl had to be with her mother.
And no matter how she felt, the child wasn't hers.
Yet, as she watched Raquel glance back at her over her shoulder, she felt like she had just lost another.
She should've known something was off by how quiet Alexei was. His usual is driving a torrent of nasty thoughts to her head, the type that left a bitterness in her throat. Anything and everything got picked apart, and she beat up on herself enough—she didn't need his help.
Yet today, Alexei had nothing to say. Merely watching with scornful eye, his ghostly skull peeking in from the side. No words to offer, just the occasional smirk. Malik just glares at him until it becomes a phantom staredown. But then, she saw him again.
There's a boy. A small boy. He has dark hair framing his face, wide sad eyes. He says his body is buried in a forest not too far from here. He was taken off the streets when walking home one day and was never found. And every night, his mother lived in agony. So he reached out to Chima because she's the only one who can see him.
Her heart ached for his other. The not knowing. The uncertainty. Death is at least concrete, death is absolute. She would always feel a void from Malik, but she knew his body was in the ground. She was at least given that small courtesy.
"Can you help me. Please?" She's unsure what to say, a feeling in her gut telling her to wait. She's a tourist, but her company is not. She thought that maybe it would be helpful to have Dari with them and she pulls out her phone to text him. But the boy smacks her phone away before she could. "NO!" Malik's eyes are off Alexei, now standing up from where he sat. Glaring at the boy like he dared him to say another word. But now the boy is frantic.
"PLEASE! My mother won't make it! She's... She'll—" He gets quiet, gazing down at his feet. He still has on the clothes he wore the day he was harmed, the blood stain on his white canvas shoe looking vivid.
"...I'll help you."
Malik tenses up, his eyes now darting to his mother. "Mama... you don't know him, he could be—" But she can't take much more. Sadness is radiating off the child, the more apparent his form becomes. From transparent to human, flushing with blood like he wasn't buried in the moss. She's developed a soft spot for children and mothers, relating so heavily that it felt like her duty to help. It's all so vivid, everything she's seen. She had to do something. Anything. He had died so violently and his soul deserve peace.
"What's the name of this forest?"
The boy stares at her, blinking away translucent tears. He whispers "... Aokigahara."
She sighs and pulls up the location. It's about an hour drive, but a straight shot. She finds a route and grabs the keys to the rental. Dari was gone anyway, he'd be returning in the evening. She intended to be back before then. She had a plan to drive there then call the cops once his body was recovered, finding a gardening trowel in the lushious yard of her partner's place. So she shot him a text that she was stepping out and headed out the door.
Meanwhile... Malik was on his way to finding Dari so they could stop his mother. Because although his mother couldn't see it, he knew of the kind of evil that lurked around in a place like that—the kind of evil that was indeed waiting on Chima.
i had a bullet for a brush and painted my walls red. we plaster the hole with bone fragments and a sworn secrecy. an emotional bloodpact we'll take to the grave he's buried in—
'...The only grave im in is in your mind, Chima.. this wasteland of a mind.'
She drops her pen and takes a deep breath. The more she tries to ignore him, the louder he gets. Every negative feeling, every racing thought—Alexei had taken up space in her head to help amplify them.
Perhaps this was karma for her actions. At first, it was almost felt poetic how it came full circle. She took his club and his life. But then the cost came into play; that alleged comfort that was supposed to come with his death never came. And now, the bill was heavy.
Now, there's a new ghost taking up space.
She can see him out the corner of her eye. He presents himself the way he looked on the night he died. An exit wound to the forehead with a chunk of skull peeking from the back. She can still smell the scent of metal and matter. Even in death, Alexei is loud, and she hated him for it.
He sits there with half his skull showing, carelessly pulling from a cigarette. 'If you think you're crazy now, miska. Just watch. Everything that you hate. Fear. I will make it worse.' A ghostly ringed finger pointing her way as he puts the cigarette out on his tongue.
'I will show you true meaning of haunted...'
She presses her hands to her ears, drowning him out. Trying to. But he never goes away. Malik runs him off, but he always comes back. And she's trying to pretend he won't, that she'll be left alone at the end of it. That for once in her life, she'll be rewarded for defending and protecting herself and hers. That—
"... Chima, you okay?" She didn't realize she was standing there tensed up, squeezing her head between her hands in the middle of the room. Her club manager is staring, unable to see what Chima can see. Questioning her sanity as some folks tended to do. So instead of being honest, she just let's it go. Tonight, she didn't feel like it.
