815 Butterfly Street, Fin

Does pain taste like spoiled Étouffée?
Will anger stop singing nine inch nails inside his ears'
"Piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy."
Please tell anguish to stop knocking at my door, stop knocking at my door. Thoughts are running wild inside his head in the darkness of his bedroom.

Why did he lie to the landlord. They're not together, they never were. Yes, maybe they messed around in drunken stupors but that's not him. That's something else, maybe Longing just stopping by to get some milk. Not him.

"Ouvre la porte Pierre. S'il vous plait. Ma Cherie. Pierre. S'il vous plait. S'il vous plait. Pierre."

"Justice. Let me sleep. Early day tomorrow. S'il vous plait."

Une, Deux, Trois. The doorknob turns, and slightly opens.

Merde, he thought she would forget that the bedroom door doesn't lock.

"Are you awake?" she asks knowing exactly that it doesn't matter whether he is asleep, in the shower, taking a shit whatnot. She will talk.

"I know you're awake. Please talk with me. Please?"

"tomorrow, lets' talk. I have to be up in a few hours."

12:17 am.

"Oh Pierre, you never have time for me anymore. Joy's gone, why do still not come home? I want you home."

"Because I work late."

"Bullshit."

She's right. He's been going everywhere in the city after work except home. He drives by the apartment first and looks up to see if the lights are lit. If they are, he drives off and finds somewhere else to wait until she's asleep. Anywhere; Vons, The Library, the Half-off movie theater, and he just sits there. Sits. Who would have thought he would be able to sit still.

"I'm not leaving until you listen to me." She slowly sits down just by the edge of his bedroom.

"Please let me get some sleep Justice." He is now squirming in his bed.

"Non, ........" The rest was gibberish. He couldn't make out what she was saying, just certain words.

" was hpioj jpioujp Just nlipi dickhead ib,z'lwkjpi not like you ..loihoho."

"Stop."

" I won't stop UNTIL YOU LISTEN A MOI, don't be an asshole like..."

"Stop."

" You're just like them...like all of them, I should've told Joy."

"STOP FUCKING TALKING LET ME SLEEP!"

"Non."

"FUCK, GET OUT!" He realized at this point that he is now standing bent over towards her in his underwear. Unknowingly. She stands up squares him, Gin sweat all over her collarbone and cheeks then walks out. He takes a deep breathe, wipes his face with his shaking left hand, closes the door and goes back to bed.

Not even a few minutes have passed.

"Cherie? Can I come in S'il vous plait. I just need to talk."

He's not gonna say a word, maybe she'll go to bed.

Une Deux Trois. The doorknob turns. She is saying something, unintelligible and sits by the foot of his bed and touches his left foot.

"I know you don't love me Pierre, but if..."

"Stop. Let's talk tomorrow ok. This is not you, it's the liquor talking." He just wants to sleep and will say anything to get her out of his room.

"Just listen to me," in a slur she begs.

"Don't be such a fucking asshole." She now has her hand on his body pushing him and saying those words at the same time.

"Don't be such a fucking asshole Pierre, Je t'aime. Why can't you fucking love me."

"Get out."

"No, I won't get out. This is my place, I won't get out. Just love me. Why can't you love me."

"please. get out."

"Non."

" I need my sleep."

" You can sleep when I'm done talking."

"GET OUT CASSE TOI GET OUT!" Before you know it, he had pushed her off his bed, grabbed her by the hair with his right hand and her shoulders with his left and threw her from wall to wall and finally kicked her out of his bedroom.

"MERDEEEEEE! If I see ya mothah fucking face here evah agin...."

STOP. Who said that? Did he just say that? He just said the same exact words but stopped himself. He looked down, almost naked with Justice outside his door whimpering and muttering

"..just try...just try...just try."

Try? There's no way he could just try after what just happened. He couldn't just try after this unconscious state of being. He couldn't just try after hearing his
step-father through HIS own voice.

Courir. Run. You have to run. This place is no longer safe. Come to think of it, it never was. Come to think of it, he's been unconscious for the past 6 months here at 815 Butterfly Street.