Broken Mirrors

Elias pulled out her lighter, flicked the igniter. Watched the flame temporarily displace the darkness around it, temporarily displace the quiet with an indignant hiss, temporarily displace her rabid thoughts. The sirens were closer now, almost outside. She tucked the lighter into her occupied pocket.

The thick, black tar stuck to her molars, coated her canines before shooting down the passage of her airway, choking her in the most peacefully addicting manner, leaving her almost desperate for it to finish the job. Imaginary scissors cut the sandbags attached to her shoulders and she watched as they sunk to the floor from their seemingly permanent resting place. When she couldn’t contain the poison anymore, it left her in puffs of charcoal, soft whisps intermixing and swirling around each other.

It was just past eleven at night. The early October winds blew with a timid vengeance, so ravenous at times that it almost disguised the distant sound of the sirens. Normally, on nights like these, the Richards twins would be fully engaged in a horror movie marathon, camped on their stained couch, facing their too old tv that tended to misbehave every commercial break or two. And Elias would make Mont go and smack the side of the metal box before any vital scenes were missed. And Mont would complain about it every step of the way, but she would still do it.

“Elias Richards!” A voice diluted through mechanic filters called.

Who liked going down memory lane, anyway?

“Elias Richards, you need to exit the building immediately! This is the Chicago police department! We have the building surrounded!”

“Oh good, roll call,” Elias muttered.

Elias languidly paced the open dilapidated area before settling on a left-over chair. Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick message to hurry this show along.

Don’t play dumb.

Her screen lit up with a new text.

You’re not playing fair.

In any other circumstance, Elias would have smiled.

I won’t repeat myself.

Elias shoved the device into her pocket. She felt the last inhale of tobacco trickle into her lungs, pulled the cigarette out of her mouth. Crushed the remaining embers under her boot and waited.

They filed in like ants, suited in black armour. Guns in big hands held to bigger chests, all pointed up. Elias had never seen so many gun barrels in her entire life. What she assumed was a swat team or task force surrounded the perimeter. They crept low, kept to the few shadows the moonlight spared. The Chicago police department followed, vested and alert. A few minutes of quiet shuffling passed with no verbal exchanges. Both sides waited for the other to do something, something that would galvanise the other to act. Perhaps recklessly, perhaps not.

Elias stood in the center of the abandoned warehouse, a space she knew better than her home. The high industrial ceilings capped the residuals of an expansive workspace. Brick and concrete walls wore coats of graffiti to stay warm, not aided by the wall of broken windows that the moon shone from. Elias faced it now.

What a shame they won’t be able to see it from where they’re standing. It’s full tonight.

Brick pillars did their best to hold up a tired and dilapidated ceiling, sheets of paper and dust covered the floor as thickly as fur, but it wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time, this was Elias’ childhood. She grew up here. Shared memories with her sister and their best friend. The same friend that faced her now.

“Elias Richards, you need to come with us.” Stern but not aggressive, a voice that reminded Elias of a sauna. Relaxing at first, but capable of serious damage after too much time had gone by.

Violet Goldstein looked just as youthful at 27 as she did at 18. Elias on the other hand, couldn’t say the same for herself. Stress had eaten away at her weight until she was a fraction of the curvy woman she used to be. Blue eyes couldn’t mimic the sky after so many hours spent studying the pavement. She couldn’t even fake a smile anymore. Fatigue drilled into her bones and filled them with lead. The poison spread to her bloodstream. It would certainly explain how she got here. Maybe she was crazy…

“Seems time treated you well, Vi.” Elias pulled out another cigarette and lit it with her lighter, stuffed the almost empty pack back into her jacket pocket. Her short hair fell away from her face as she tilted her head to view the moon one last time before meeting Violet Goldstein’s gaze.

In between puffs, Elias spoke, “Wish I matured that well. But then I guess we had different circumstances, didn’t we?”

“Elias, listen to me, whatever you’re doing… whatever you’ve done, we can talk about it, ok? Please put your hands behind your head and turn around.”

“You know,” Elias paced languidly; shoulders relaxed. She stuffed her left hand in her jacket pocket where it curled into a loose fist. “I’m surprised you managed to wrangle this many people for little old me. Everyone is a number these days. Considering mine isn’t the most impressive, I thought I would’ve been worth… maybe two mall cops?”

“Stop wasting our time, Ellie. You know what you confessed to on the phone.”

“Oh right!” Elias slapped her forehead lightly in false comradery. “And it still took you almost an hour to rally all this up. Seriously, round of applause.”

Nothing came from the crowd. They stood, waiting for her to call the shots, waiting to see if this interaction ended in handcuffs or bullet casings.

“But I mean how can I be, right? When a few rich assholes die, the entire world stops turning. But when the good citizens who keep this city running… who support you and pay your cheques disappear from your streets… no one even blinks. I guess they’re just not worth the extra effort.” Elias felt the weight of eyes following her as heavy as a casket as she paced on her makeshift stage.

“Ellie, you admitted to killing 28 politicians. They were 28 parents, 28 friends, 28 human beings who aren’t here anymore,” Violet reasoned. Maybe she thought that if she talked really slowly, Elias would understand the weight of her crimes. But Elias wasn’t a toddler.

“I know. And think of how much our community will prosper with them finally gone.” Elias stopped walking, stared at her ratty boots with soles caked in mud and other substances, then continued, this time in Violet’s direction. They were small steps, nothing threatening, if that was even possible for a mass murderer.

“But their crimes don’t matter as long as they make headlines, right? Going on air, promising the gullible bastards of this city that crime had gone down. Pretty stories for the front page. What do you call that, Vi?”

“We have people looking into that, but you should’ve let them go through the justice system, Ellie. You can’t take matters in your own hands,” Violet said.

Elias let out a sardonic laugh, dripping in disbelief at how little her friend knew.

“Really? Like who? Your sergeant? Police chief? Stop lying to yourself.”

Elias stared at Violet for a long stretch of time. No matter how hard she looked, there were no traces of the girl she grew up with. Elias felt the first few hints that promised tears then.

Elias raised her arms and mid half turn exclaimed, “Look around, Vi! You’re the best detective in your division.”

Elias crossed her arms across her chest and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at Violet. “You really think they would’ve excluded you from those cases? Pfft, I can’t imagine how many arrests you have under your belt, considering organised crime is your specialty… if you really believe any of them gave a rat’s ass about the fucked up shit those politicians did behind closed doors, then you’re dumber than I thought.”

Violet’s breathing picked up, her chest rising and falling quickly. Her jaw was locked tight, and if Elias strained her vision, she could almost see her milky knuckles fisted around her gun.

“What aren’t you getting, Ellie? Even if I did believe you, that’s still not your decision to make! Do you think you did this city a favour? This isn’t some sick vigilante bullshit. You’re a criminal!”

Elias paused, sniffed. The air was heavy in her lungs. It felt as if it was brand new; her body had never inhaled such clean air before.

“Was Monty a criminal too?”

Not even the wind could penetrate the silence that followed. The fight that seemed to hold Violet up poured from her in rivulets, draining her until a hollow version remained; until Elias thought she was looking into a mirror.

“That’s not fair…” Violet murmured. Her eyes softened and grew misty.

“Isn’t it? Someone had to protect Monty, Vi. Someone had to make her memory mean something. I don’t care if I live the rest of my life behind bars. She wasn’t just a number to me.”

Violet’s lower lip trembled before it was captured between her teeth.

“I mean you didn’t even bother showing up to her funeral. Imagine that, everyone there to mourn the loss of Monty except the supposed ‘love of her life’… now that’s what I call a tragedy.” Elias’ voice was clear and detached, the previous mirth gone. She never felt more tired than when stood across from Violet, watching as a tear trailed down her cheek. One became two, two became a harsh throat clearing and a groove between her brows. Elias watched as Violet ground her molars, fought for control. She watched as the final piece of the puzzle nestled into its place.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Ellie. Put your hands. Behind. Your. Head.” Violet’s hands betrayed her newfound resolve as they shook around her gun. She managed to keep a hold of it, but the poor thing definitely wouldn’t get a clear shot in now.

The growl tore through Elias. She dropped her arms and pocketed her left, clutching the small device until it probably left imprints in her skin. She looked up at the moon again, reveled in its ability to be a quiet guide in the dark, to ease scared minds because they weren’t alone.

“I’m not going to pretend that I’m a saint, Vi. Believe me when I say that it was never supposed to be this way. But Monty… she was everything to me.” The last few words came out in a near whisper. If she had any energy left, she would start shaking too. But Elias was too tired.

“You may have loved her, I know that, but she was the reason I got up every morning. I have no family left, Vi. That’s it-she was it for me! And I can’t let that go.”

It was Elias’ lips that trembled then. Her shoulders dropped with the weight of her past guilt. Not being there for Monty as much as she should’ve, not asking more questions about where she went at night; it was Elias’ fault. All of it. She cried as she took the small device out of her pocket, letting out a sigh with so much grief, it could fill a cemetary. Looked at her friend one more time.

“I’m sorry,” Elias said as she lifted the device concealed in her hand for everyone to see. Her pacing leaving her in the perfect spot for the moonlight to illuminate the black remote in her hand. Time stood still as everyone strained their eyes to detect what she presented, but Elias didn’t focus on them.

Elias cried for her childhood friend. Her neighbour and study buddy. The friend she spilled gossip to and the first person she suspected when it got out. Her teammate and chemistry lab partner. The person she ate lunch with every single day. The person she talked to, every single day. Her sister’s girlfriend, would’ve been fiancé.

Would’ve been.

Everything happened so quickly. Screams ate up the remaining air until the chaos poured out from the windows.

“Everybody get ou-”

“Move! Move! Move!”

Then, only the sound of brick and wood falling to the floor.

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“Yes, thank you, Jill. I’m reporting to you from outside an explosion in what used to be a paint factory, which had been abandoned for the past few decades. The cause of the explosion is unclear. A civilian was driving by and called 911 when they saw the flames. Firefighters arrived on scene and are doing everything they can to evacuate victims. The fire has dimmed down now, and thirty police officers along with one civilian have been found dead inside. As time proceeds, there will be more to report, but so far, there have been no survivors. Thank you and we’ll keep you updated at the station. Back to you, Jill.”