She called herself Lynn.

She called herself Lynn as a reminder. Peeled herself like orange around the corner separating her bedroom and hallway from the rest of the apartment. By the time she got to the front door, she shivered icy chills of doubt. The door knob was there, but putrid and reminiscent of uglier time gone by. She’s polished it, but the psychic stench remained. For some reason she thought of a strange visit from two years ago.

The stranger who fought to see her, and knocked repeatedly requesting that she open the door and speak through unwashed teeth and unkempt hair and muddied complexion. Shellshocked and worn. Brittle feet.

“Britt! Britt, are you there??”

Knocking! Insufferable banging! The door groaned metallic.

She sobbed.

“Briit! Britt please open up… I get it now, ok? I just want to see how you’re doing?”

A pause.

“We miss you… Emily had a baby and we thought of naming her Brittney after you… like we said we would at dinner that day…”

Silence. Britt bit down on her lip until it split, searing like a fresh baked roll.

The blood was bitter.

An audible sigh. The knocking stopped and the visitor left. Hot brain. Flashy. Throbbing. Prongs. Pricks. Stabs at tender flesh and she couldn’t breathe.

The tears rushed to fill her eyes like dusty pools. But then…

When this boy meets woooorld!

She called herself Lynn and jumped a bit. Whipped around the corner like cream. Settled in for safekeeping and watched the show, smiling.

It must be him again, she thought to herself, as she believed herself to be psychic and always right. It’s what she’d discovered after having listened to herself long enough and becoming convinced enough of her own ideas.

Now she opened it, sure to wash her hands afterward, and sure to believe a white light emanated from her hands that could kill any germs in the meantime. And there was the box again. Just as she saw it through the peephole when UPS knocked and threw it on the doorstep.

She grabbed at it clumsily, throwing herself off balance and bumping her elbow trying not to fall. She swiftly pulled herself back in and slammed the door, in case her old friend, or anyone really, was around the corner waiting to grab her.

C H R Y S A N T H E M U M S!

BRITT! TAMMY! ROSES!

NO! LYNN!!!

She corrected herself. Pain could sometimes shock her into forgetting her name. She had to remember herself on purpose.

Tammy will sit a bit nicer than Lynn, though, and think things through a bit more clearly, NowTammy reasoned with herself. Positioned herself. Cared about the box and gently stared. Slowly peeled the tape. RIPPED IT OFF! Felt bad for being so cruel. RIPPED THE CARDBOARD FLAP. Tammy fought to be proper. Lynn fought to be quick. Britt lay in the corner of her own mind.

Forgotten how to- do anything- these days- chaoticized the simple. Grabbed the bubble wrap too and squeezed with intensity. Something had to be weaker than she was.

Tossed it away and grabbed the contents with an absurd amount of force.

A black book.

A letter.

And a… check…?

$20,000? From -

What the hell???

Latavia Watson.

That bitch!

The letter appeared to be signed by her as well. Just the same, she’d recognize her handwriting anywhere. She used to be her best friend.

To Brittney:

It took me a long time to figure out what to say to you. I’m not good with words, like you. Never been good at much really but being a sister. I don’t do much of that these days either… Tyrell got caught for doing it again. This time big. Bigger than I could’ve imagined and so I couldn’t help him. And I wanted to at first - I’m sorry I know it’s not nice or right or what you want to hear, but it’s true. I wanted to protect my little brother. But I couldn’t. And I’m glad I couldn’t because once it came to light it broke my heart.

He drugged an intern and took advantage of her in the office during an all nighter. He then sat her at the desk like she’d passed out working. But she was bleeding really badly and in so much pain. So she called the police. And they did a kit. And many more came forward. Before long, people were pointing the finger at me too as his sister and head of HR. And, as I lost my job & reputation, and he lost his will to live, I thought about you. The fingers pointing at me were justified. The hate spewing I earned. But you… you went through that same thing and I didn’t do shit to help you… in fact, I made it happen. To protect him and I. And I told them you were looking for a come up since you’d been poor your whole life. And I told them that you were mental from your upbringing. And before long, everyone hated you and loved him just the same. We chased you out of work, and friends, and a well earned reputation because you spoke when he mistreated you and tried to force himself on you repeatedly. And then it actually happened and you had no one to speak to. I listened like I cared, and then helped to cover it up and ruin you. I know that it hurt you so badly, but I can’t say that I’m sorry because it won’t fix what I’ve done. I can say that I’m miserable. And my body is failing me. And that Tyrell took his own life rather than face the consequences.

He left me money in the insurance, and I don’t want it. I can’t keep it, it’s not right it feels like blood money. But I can give it to you.

Here’s a check for $20,000. And my lawyer’s number so that arrangements can be made to transfer my inheritance to you via monthly deposit. You would have $20,000 a month for 5 years. You could travel like you wanted to. Write again. Never work. Whatever you want to do.

Latavia

$20,000 a month for 5 years. Hot tears. Boiling. Gratefulness. Seething hatred. Her pain was worth more than a million dollars. And yet, she could finally have the life that she wanted at his expense. Tammy, satisfied. Lynn, whimpering. Britt steadfast and embarrassed at what she had become due to her experience and alienation. She was fighting with pieces of herself now all the time. Out of place in this new world where she had finally been vindicated and freed from financial constraints.

Seething hot fiery bitterness! Volcanic! Erudite! Beseeching! Brilliantly diamond! She erupted into a loud guttural wail. Grabbed the notebook and wrote for the first time in years:

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…

Scratched and murdered across the pages. And then, she put it all down. Turned off her television. Grabbed her coat and shoes. Wallet. Stuffed the check and black book in her pockets with a blue medium point pen and left.

She would never come back.