JACK
Ahri was a quiet sleeper. Her breaths were short and faint, almost nonexistent, and she rarely moved. She twitched a finger here and there, and let out a few soft sighs, but other than that, she remained silent. Like her brother, when she was exhausted, she turned into a heavy sleeper.
Nothing woke up Ahri.
Not the sound of me washing her dildo or when I took a shower and blew dried my hair or when I dropped a kitchen pan before I reheat my food. I knew she heard me because the walls were paper thin and when you didn’t have a door, and Ahri’s door wouldn't close, sound traveled pretty clearly.
I looked over at her broken door that I refuse to fix. I like the easy access. Coming and going as I pleased.
Not only did sound not bother her, but neither did the smell of food when I ate in her room and watched her sleep. I’d spent the better half of the last two and a half hours with Ahri, even though I was already supposed to be at The Bayne. I got a call earlier telling me that I needed to meet with the owner, Emilio Bayne, to sign some papers, talk with him, etc. I’ll see the old geezer tomorrow, but I’ll have to spend the night at The Bayne.
I knew I was going to be busy the next few days being an adult. I had no clue how long it will be, but I knew I had to be at The Bayne for the next few days. So, I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Ahri, even if she wasn’t awake. Call me a creeper or a stalker; I don’t give a shit. I liked to watch this girl sleep. Ahri looked different. Happier, maybe? I think that’s the best adjective to use, aside from peaceful, since she looked like she had no worries in the world.
Let’s not forget Ahri made a great model when she wasn’t hiding her face.
I towered over Ahri, placing the covers over her breasts and looked at all the scars on her body. She had a long straight-like-an-arrow scar going down her back, a few cuts on her upper thigh which looked like self-harm. The sight of that made me ache, but at least there were no new ones. She had three cigarette burns I saw the first time we meant, and it reminded me of the seven burns on my right forearm. My scars were harder to see, hidden behind my Kraken tattoo.
My eyes fell to her worst scar, the burn on her hip. I touched it lightly, Ahri didn’t move. I let my hand graze over the scar, feeling the texture, but taking in her soft skin. Ahri’s hip was bony, she barely had any fat on her, but I guess surviving on ramen, Red Bull, and a few candy bars does that to you. I went back to her scar, lightly brushing the back of my hand on it.
Even with all her burns, cuts, and scars, it didn’t take away from how gorgeous she was.
I cleared my throat and moved away when I felt that stupid fucking tingle invade my body. My eyes never went away from her scar though.
I came to the conclusion that Fidget hadn’t tried to kill Ahri. There was a part of me that didn’t believe that because I knew Fidget. There was also a part of me that knew Ahri wouldn't be so defensive about Fidget’s shirt or kept the prison number in her phone if she was the victim. She obviously missed her brother but refused to contact him.
The picture of the letter found a place in my mind again, and I picked out a line.
I’m sorry for what I said, but you can't keep avoiding me.
What did Fidget say? Was that why Ahri didn’t want to talk to him?
I adjusted the sheets over Ahri’s body again, making sure they looked photo ready before I kneeled on the ground and looked through the viewfinder of my camera. I took my photo and went back to see if I needed to change the lighting or exposure, but I didn’t. The black and white picture of Ahri was perfect just like the rest of them.
She was photogenic. It sucked that she always hid her face and the only time I could get it was when she was sleeping. I took multiple pictures as I walked around her bed and took a seat. I leaned on the wall, right next to Ahri’s feet and crossed my ankles. Rearranging the covers on Ahri again, I showed off more of her ass this time.
Snap.
There was something about Ahri I couldn’t describe. I don’t think it had a word. It was just…something. I took a picture of Ahri’s clothes rack. She didn’t match her clothes. She felt like the kind of girl who lived in black, from the tone of her voice and her lack of facial expressions. But in a way, she did match her clothes. Quirky, a little different, and stuck in the past.
I guess you could say the same thing about me. I didn’t match the only color I lived and breathe. I was wild, outgoing, and had spent a good portion of my life with a smile on my face. But hell if I was going to live in anything else other than black. I looked too damn fine.
Ahri let out a soft whimper and shook from the cold. I readjusted the blanket and covered her whole body in a thin white cloud.
I skimmed through the images I’d taken of Ahri in the past few hours. Some nude, some covered, and some simply of Ahri’s face with her messy blonde hair in front of it. I’d rearranged a few locks of her hair in between photos to take a better picture of her face. I wanted to see the scar going from her cheek to her eyebrow, the two nose piercings, the stud and ring, and the cute small beauty mark on her chin.
I took more photos of Ahri's face than her body. After about the fiftieth photo, I lost track of how many I’d taken. I’m sure there some were ‘bad’ images in the pile, but I’d go back and delete them later.
Ahri’s phone buzzed loudly, and I jumped up, almost sprinting to the phone to pick it up. But it wasn’t a call. It was an alarm labeled ‘Diablo Work.’ Before I could turn it off, Ahri moaned and stretched on the bed. She turned around, her eyes still closed as she slapped the mattress, most likely looking for her phone and where she thought she’d left it.
When she couldn't find it, she let out a muffled grunt and sat up, her perky small breasts exposed. Ahri rubbed her eyes, and when she saw me, she pulled the blanket over her body. She didn’t say anything. I think she was getting used to the idea that I was the worst next door neighbor alive, invading her space like I said I would. But to be honest, I liked being around her even if we weren't talking or, more importantly, fucking.
I blame Fidget for that.
I’d noticed a few things changed when I came out of prison. One, I felt claustrophobic as fuck if I wasn't in a big space, hence why I have no fucking door. It’s not like I have anything worth stealing—except my camera memory card—so there was no need for a door. Everything in my Wazowski apartment was disposable and replaceable. My real life was at The Bayne, and that’s where I’ll do some serious damage on my credit card. That’s where all the things that mattered to me belonged.
Two, I liked being in the same room as someone. For the last three years, Fidget had followed me around, and I gave in to him, talking to him, listening to him, and having him around me at all times. Now it felt odd being alone. You could say that I missed Fidget, but there was no way in hell Ahri reminded me of him aside from looking vaguely similar.
Ahri stepped off her bed and tripped over her covers as she tried to find her balance.
Did I fuck you so hard that you’re having a hard time walking, baby girl? Yes, yes, I did. (even though you did most of the fucking this time.)
The thought of me accidentally coming, again, was cringe-worthy. Was that going to be a normal thing now? No sex for seven years and I can come twice in a row, but only if I accidentally came the first time? If so, fuck it. I guess I’ll take it.
Ahri hugged her covers around her body, before heading into the bathroom while giving me a funny look, her lip curled at one side and her eyes small as she squinted. The door closed behind her, and before I could take off her dirty bed sheets, Ahri caught my attention.
“You remind me of my brother,” she muttered through the door, her voice a little raspier from her nap.
Speak of the fucking devil.
“What?” I chuckled.
I stepped away from the bed and stood in front of the bathroom door, leaning on the doorframe to hear her better. Ahri turned on the shower, and I heard her step in, the water unevenly falling as she lathered her body.
“Whaddya mean I remind you of your brother?” I asked after a few minutes listening to her clean the sex off her body.
“My brother, Luke. He hated being alone,” Ahri said in a preppy tone.
“Why did he hate being alone?”
I knew why. It’s because Fidget got bored as fuck and needed human interaction at all times. He was the perfect definition of a people person, unlike Ahri who seemed to keep her distance and only allowed the people she liked in her life.
“He got bored easily. When we were younger, he followed me around the house. He went in whichever room I went, including the bathroom. I always kicked him out, but he waited outside of the door trying to talk to me while I took a shower.” Ahri cleared her throat, gesturing at this exact situation. “Luke was just a big baby that loves affection and wanted to be talked to and pampered. I couldn’t tell you how many times he lied when he was younger about having a nightmare to come in my bed to sleep.” Ahri laughed, and it sounded genuine.
Yeah, that seems about right.
Fidget was a huge teddy bear. The first night he came to prison he tried to talk to me about everything and anything, keeping me up all night. He was obviously scared. When he asked me if he could sleep in my twin size bed that barely fit me I almost kicked him off his mattress and beat him senseless.
Fidget wasn't gay or anything, but he loved the closeness, the human interaction. Maybe more than me. I just liked cuddling because it an easy way for me to knock out while I sucked on Ahri’s tit or it was an easy way to get ready for round two. So, I liked affection for selfish reasons.
“Seems like a cute, but clingy kid.” I chuckled.
Ahri let the water run a little longer before she turned it off. She opened the door with a light towel wrapped around her small body, her hair still dry, except for her wet ends that flipped up.
“Says the guy who forced me to be the small spoon.” Ahri cocked an eyebrow.
“What can I say, I like my cock snug between your ass cheeks. It gets me ready for another fuck.” I winked.
“I have work,” Ahri growled.
“And last time I checked I got you a day off, so why don’t you use it today?”
“Because I’d rather take my birthday off, which I haven’t done in years. I wanna go to a club and let loose instead of spending the whole day inside having sex with you.”
Ahri walked over to her clothes rack and moved each piece of clothing. I propped my shoulder on the wall, arms crossed, watching her lips pucker while she decided which colorfully odd outfit to wear.
“Ouch, Ahrianna, right in the heart.” I chuckled and grabbed my chest. I liked it when she got bratty with me. It set me on fire. “So, where are we going for your birthday? I actually don’t mind clubs; it’s basically having sex on the dance floor which I could easily do if you’re grinding your ass on me wearing a tight dress and those black heels,” I moaned, biting my lip and looked down at her heels.
Ahri clenched her towel and slowly pivoted on her heels to face me.
“Aaaaand? Who said you're invited?” She smirked, showing off that dimple.
“If you want your gift.” I cupped my groin. “I’m invited.”
Ahri rolled her eyes. “September 12th.”
“And how old is my baby girl turning?”
“Twenty-five.” She went back to her clothes.
“Damn, so I guess I can't call you baby girl anymore.” I laughed, but Ahri retorted with a slap on my abs which were still sore.
You little fucking tease.
I bit my lip and smiled at her.
“You’re one to talk. You’re thirty-three,” Ahri snarled.
“Eh, give or take.” I sucked on my tooth.
Ahri tilted her head.
I shrugged. “I don’t know my actual birthday. I could be turning thirty-three next week or a month for now.”
“How do you not know your birthday?”
“I was a year, maybe a year and a half-year-old when I was dropped off at a fire station in Whole Park. I had no birth certificate or name or any note I was delivered to a hospital. To put more icing on the cake, I had a heroin addiction.”
“A-a heroin addiction?” Ahri’s voice was sympathetic and tiny as she dropped her eyes.
“Yep, so at one-ish-years-old, I went into rehab where I stayed for six months until I went to Mama Baronski: foster home number one.”
Ahri nodded, taking in all the facts before she made a realization. “Is that why you don’t do drugs?”
“Exactly. I like to stay semi-healthy…minus the cigarettes, a few drinks, and the kush I occasionally enjoy.” I reminded her.
Ahri hummed. “So, when is your ‘birthday?’”
“April 3rd. But since I don’t know my birthday. I celebrate the whole fucking month of April as my birthday month, making up for my sob story about a toddler who was born without a name, a date, and a drug problem.” I grinned.
Ahri let out a dry laugh and went back to picking out her outfit.
Before laying on her lumpy bed, I took off the dirty sex sheets and tossed them in the corner. I sat down, arms back and ankle crossed over my knee to take in the view of Ahri picking her clothes, with my camera still around my neck. She was going to change soon; I wondered if she’d let me take her picture.
“What is it with you and cleaning?” She mumbled into her shoulder while her brown eyes took a toll on me.
“‘Just because you are poor, does not mean you have to live or look like you are poor.’” I quoted Mama Baronski. “The only foster mom I could even call a mom, Nadia Baronski, was a maid. She told me that stupid quote every time the other kids or I left a mess, and from a young age, it was carved into my skull. I kept my things clean, organized, and where I left them, which benefited me when I got older.”
“Ha. The only useful thing my mother has said to me was ‘don’t be a bitch,’” Ahri scoffed with anger.
She picked out a simple jean skirt with a frayed. I turned my camera on, pointed it at Ahri and took a photo with the flash on. She paused, like a deer caught in headlights, but Ahri didn’t look back at me like I was hoping she would.
“And what’s with you and the cameras?” she gritted, a little annoyed with me.
“Since I was six, cameras have always fascinated me. The fact that they turned light into images. The way the brown film in disposable cameras looked. And even when I was broke, I could always see the tiny version of the photo if I held it to the light. The way Polaroid images are instant—expensive as fuck—but instant and imperfectly perfect. The way a dark room is all red and peaceful. It’s just you and the negatives in a room that smells of developing chemicals. I just love it all.” I waited for Ahri to look over her shoulder, but she didn’t.
Ahri picked out the rest of her clothes. A yellow and white baseball tee shirt that looked large, maybe Fidget’s, a pair of white cotton panties, and a pair of blue and pink tie-dye knee high socks. So, fucking colorful for such a stubborn pissed off little thing.
“Are you just gonna stay here and take pictures of me?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Ahri dropped her towel and pulled her panties up. She wasn't ashamed of her body, but she hid her face at all costs. She pulled up her jean skirt that hugged her waist and hips nicely, and lucky for me it was not too short to have my overprotective side come out and guard her if any guy tried to make a pass. I took my photos, Ahri getting dressed like I wasn't even around, but remained cautious to hide her face.
“You’re not shy about your body, but you’re shy about your face? How does that work?”
“Nothing to be ashamed of my body. This is what I have to work with,” she muttered.
“But you’re ashamed of your face?” I asked, taking another picture. One where Ahri was tucking in her shirt inside her jean skirt with her blonde wavy hair hiding the side of her face, but the top of her ear poking out.
She didn’t say anything.
“If I were to ask you about your scars and burns, would you tell me what happened?”
“Depends.” Ahri rolled up the yellow sleeves of her shirt while I got it on camera.
“On?”
“Depends if I want to share my stories. Some are personal or depressing, and others are just plain stupid?”
“Got a few stupid ones myself.”
She snorted in response.
“Is that Luke’s shirt?”
She nodded.
“Do you wear his clothes often?”
“We used to share clothes. Now, I mostly wear them when I miss him. Sometimes I wear my sister’s old clothes, but I end up looking too much like her and I have to take them off.”
“You have a sister?” I tilted my head, setting my camera on my lap. “What’s her name?”
She sighed and spoke calmly. “Aurora Nora Lore.”
Aurora? As in the letter?
I swallowed thinking of the letter.
I know what he did to Aurora.
Ahri sighed heavily, sat down on her floor and began to roll up her tie-dyed socks over her calves. She looked up at me, bit the inside of her cheek and studied my face. Almost as if she was trying to see if I was worthy of what she was going to say next.
“Aurora was my twin.” Ahri’s voice was weak.
My jaw dropped a little, and I cleared my throat, hiding my reaction.
“Was? As in the all-season kind of camp?” I asked, but I knew deep down what Ahri meant.
“No. Was…as in dead.” Ahri bit her bottom lip and put on her gray timbs, making sure each lace was as tight as could be.
“How did she die?” I pried for answers.
Ahri scoffed and rolled her eyes.
“I have to get to work.” She grunted, standing up on her feet and grabbed her bag I put on the table. She checked it to make sure all her things were there and grabbed her cell phone off the counter. Ahri went into the bathroom, and I followed, leaning on the door again and watching her put a little bit of makeup on. She didn’t hide my hickey.
Good girl.
Ahri sprayed a small tester bottle of perfume on her wrist getting that last remaining drop. She rubbed her wrists together then rubbed under her ears. She quickly blow dried her hair to damp level, then fixed a few wild strands in her bangs.
“You want a drink tonight? It’s on me,” she muttered under her breath.
I tapped my camera. Even though I wanted to, I had to be at The Bayne for my early meeting tomorrow with Emilio.
“Can’t.”
Ahri shrugged.
She played with her hair a few more times and added some water. I moved backward in the kitchen and took a sneaky picture, one that didn’t involve the flash. I stole few more photos until I stopped and watched Ahri let out a loud huff, ruffled her bangs, and gave up.
Ahri didn’t say much after that. She went into her fridge, drank the rest of the Red Bull and got ready. We talked a little bit about her schedule and when we had another time to fuck, but I let her know that I was going to stay with a friend for a few days. Ahri didn’t ask any follow-up questions, which I was thankful for. Then again, she was still half asleep, and curiosity didn’t seem to eat her up as it did with me.
We said goodbye, and she left.
I sat on her small countertop, next to her never-used-been-touched oven when I felt my stomach talk to me. It told me to make sure she got to Diablo’s, safe and sound, and I listened. I went over to my apartment, changed the lens to my camera, and turned it into binoculars, reminding me of my favorite jobs. I zoomed in on Ahri crossing the street and walking down the block. I snapped a few images until I saw Ahri make it into Diablo's without a scratch.
I took a few mental notes.
Aurora Nora Lore.
Relation: Twin.
Status: Deceased.
Reason: Unknown.