The Heart Of A Murdered Woman [Part One]

 

❝I am a murdered woman, Avianna had told them once, long ago. I take and take and take and someday it will come back to me, bite me, I know it.❞

“Wake up…”

“Avianna…”

“Wake up, Avianna…”

“Wake up…”

“Wake up…”

Amari May rushes down the street, clutching her bag and coat tightly against her. It’s drizzling lightly, and she’s already later for her shift, and— 

“Oof!” She cries, stumbling when an object rams into her, “I’m so sorry!”

No, not an object. A man. “It’s alright, ma’am,” he replies, words in a deep baritone. 

“I— uh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Amari stumbles over her words as a weird feeling washes over her, one she can’t identify. “I’m so sorry, again,” rush out of her mouth as she moves to turn and leave.

“You’re in quite a hurry,” he observes, unperturbed, making her pause.

It’s unnerving. She clears her throat, “Yes, I’m late. Excuse me.” 

Amari pushes past the man, but the unfathomable feeling doesn’t pass. There’s something screaming inside her mind, a thought pushing and pulling, but it’s so far away she can’t even recognize the basic emotion with it. 

He’s familiar… but not? She’s not sure. Maybe he just has a common face.

She makes it to the cafe three minutes late, thoughts reeling, and rushes to tie her apron on. Sending her manager an apologetic look, Amari washes her hands and prepares for her work. 

By the time she’s taking the orders, the man is the least of her worries.

“Wake up, Avianna.”

“Wake up....”

“Come back to us.”

“Avianna...”

“Wake up.”

Amari startles awake. She’s sucked out of a vague dreamscape of a salmon color, imprecise and impalpable. Unidentifiable. The man, she realizes, almost immediately. The man was there, standing, waiting, watching and— 

Willing her heartbeat to calm, Amari harshly exhales, trying to bring some semblance of order into her brain. She rolls over, checks her phone, then groans dramatically, rubbing a hand through her hair.

A text from her boss stares back at her, and the time is— shit. It’s already nine, and she slept through her alarm the second time that week. 

girl you missed your alarm again?? A text from her coworker reads as she scrolls through the device, are you alright??

She sends a quick ‘I’m fine’ to her friend and ‘I’m sorry, I’m on my way,’ to her boss, then pushes herself out of bed, stretching. 

The lingering afterimage of the man in her dream standing there, watching her, creates an urge to keep her curtains closed, but Amari blinks, shaking off the feeling. 

And only an hour later, when she’s in her work zone of taking orders and making coffees, is she distracted enough to forget the man.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It has to work. We don’t have another option.” Her own voice says though it’s far away.

“And if doesn’t?” A masculine figure demands, grabbing her shoulder. “What happens then? You can’t be this assured, anything can happen!” 

“Guys, it’s happening, we gotta go!” A distant voice cries.

She nods once, determinedly, a lieu of confidence plastered on her face. “No, we have this.”

“And if we don’t?” The figure frets, frantic and imperious.

“Then we’ll find another way, Jules.”

“Hi, welcome to Luna’s! What can I get for you?” Amari waits for an answer, pen against the cup she’s holding. Upon receiving no response, she blinks, looking up and freezes.

“A large coffee,” a very, very familiar man says. “Please,” he adds.

“... Right! Right, um, a large coffee coming right up.” She punches it into the register, then clears her throat. “That’ll, uh, that’ll be $3.04.” 

The man nods once, fishing into his pocket.

Amari can’t stop the next few words as they push-out despite her usual politeness. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

He stills, only briefly, and it’s uncatchable to someone who hadn’t been looking as closely as she was. “Hm,” he shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ve been told I have a common face.”

“Yeah, that explains it,” she laughs conversationally, though it’s awkward, “Here’s your change.”

“Thanks, Av— uh, thanks,” he replies. A pause, “What’s your name, I didn’t catch it.”

Amari looks down then sighs. She forgot to put her name pin on, a result of all the rush in the morning. “Amari.”

“Amari,” he echoes, strangely stilted, “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks, uh, you?”

There’s an imperceptible look in his eyes. “Jules,” he says at last. “I’m Jules.”

Amari smiles. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jules. And— your coffee will be out shortly.”

Coral skies cover the scape, fields of blood-orange poppies flowing back and forth against the ever-changing wind direction. 

A woman stands in the middle, black dress whooshing with the breeze. 

“Avianna,” she says. “Avianna, my darling, come home.”

The sky changes to a brighter blood-orange. 

Blood drips from the woman’s mouth as she grins. 

“Come home, Avianna. Come home, or there will be hell to pay.”

Screams sound in the background, children wailing. Thunder hits, deafening, and her body is pulled backward, into the oblivious. 

The sky turns dark. 

“Come home, Avianna. Come home.”

Black shadows dance around her, taunting, chanting. 

“Wake up.”

“Wake up.”

“Avianna.”

“Wake up.”

Avianna. Countless Google searches at 1 AM, after awaking to a cold sweat and a fast-beating heart, to no avail. She sighs. Fields with orange poppies.

About four hundred results come up from around the globe. 

“Who’s Avianna?” She asks, mainly to herself. “And that woman— she was so… familiar. I've been googling since the morning, and she just... doesn't exist.”

“I heard somewhere that dreams are made up of people you see in real life, on the street, etcetera. Maybe she was a customer before.” Wes, one of her coworkers and close friends, shrugs. 

“Yeah, but what about Avianna? They kept saying the name, it was creepy. It was like… like they were haunting me.”

“Amari, dreams are supposed to be creepy sometimes.” Wes looks a bit exasperated. “How about drinks tonight at Reign? You can distract yourself.”

Amari perks up. “Yeah, that sounds great. 10?”

“10.”

“This is my stop.” She smiles as the bus slows down. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Seeya!” Wes calls after her, waving.

A search result loads a second later, when she's off the device, and she sees Avianna Morelia, 1978, Reign Society. 

Amari clicks it. Once, twice. Thrice. Nothing happens, and then her app disappears as the home screen stares back at her. Google Crashed, an alert tells her a moment later.

Goddamn it.

“They created this serum— it’s memory dampening. We don’t know exactly how it works, but I know it’s dangerous.”

“Nothing the government is capable of making is dangerous. Those guys are losers.”

“Avianna.” A new voice added, exasperated.

“What?” She asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“Jules— stop high-fiving her, you’re enabling her.”

“You’re boring,” Jules pouted. He straightened up, “Anyway, yeah, I agree with Delphi. That’s just another weapon they have against us, and it can be fatal.”

“We’re not vampires with a weakness of Vervain,” Avianna said dryly. She picked her nail lazily, “We’re killers— we murder for a living— and we’ll be fine. Surviving is what we do.”

Jules and Delphi shared a look, snickering.

The latter drew back, clucked her tongue, grinning darkly. “Yes, I do think we’ll be just fine. Anyways, you wanna take the bar tonight, or a museum?”

“Oh darling,” Avianna drawled. “You know I can hardly resist museums.”  

Reign is bustling.

It’s Friday night, so not a surprise, but Amari can't help but wish for a quieter, calmer setting. Wes ditched on her, family emergency, he said, so she's alone for tonight, wallowing on a barstool.

There are three main groups inside. One, the singles. The people who (like her) are not in a relationship and usually sit at the bar and drink with friends. This area is much calmer than the rest, and the music is less loud, giving bar-goers a chance to breathe for a second.

Two, the couples. The pairs of folks who grind on each other on the dance floor and act in, quite frankly, nasty ways. Those people have no chill, no semblance for their surroundings, and almost once a month two people break up because someone was caught dancing with someone else and— oh damn, they’re throwing drinks at each other now.

Three: The resident creepy people. Every bar has them, and Reign’s are a group of four men and two women. They always scan the place predatorily, beers swirled slowly. And though they’ve never actually done anything to anyone, they’re notorious for watching the couples on the dance floor. If radiating vibes were real, theirs would be a dark maroon color— dangerous. 

“Can I get you something?” 

“Huh?”

“I said may I get you something?” The woman— a bartender— raises an eyebrow, sending her an eerie smile. Something about the smile… Amari remembers it. It’s very close, on the tip of her tongue, but far away; She can’t place it. 

“I’ll just have a whiskey on the rocks, please.” 

“I didn’t take you for a hard liquor type person,” the woman smirks. She moves to make it, putting some ice in a cup. 

Amari raises an eyebrow. “Hm, and what do you take me for?”

“Well, you liked—” She stills for a split second, then clears her throat. “You look like you like something… fruity.” 

“Yeah, no thanks.” Amari wrinkles her nose. 

The woman chuckles, passing her the drink. “So, what’s a pretty lady like you doing down at this dump?”

“I come here almost every weekend, so not very unusual.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow, lips pulled together in a way that seems curious. "I just got the job here, so I haven't seen you around yet."

Amari shifts in her seat. “Yeah, my friend was gonna come but something came up, so it looks like it’s just me.”

“Ah, I see. And to put a name to your beautiful face?”

At that, Amari narrows her eyes, but the woman seems friendly enough. “Uh, Amari. You?”

The woman splits out into a beam. “Delphine.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Delphine.” 

“Oh darling, the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Avi, no!”

“I— I love you, ma deuxième moitié.” 

“No, Avi, darling, please fight!”

“Until we— until we meet a— again…”

“NO!”

 A hand on her shoulder startles Amari. “Are you okay?”

“Y— Yeah,” Amari rubs her eyes slowly, looking around. “Sorry, uh, that was so weird I…”

“You what?” Delphine asks, concern laced in her expression— curiosity behind it. 

She’s distantly aware that Delphine’s hand is still on her shoulder. Amari forces a laugh. “Nothing, uh. Just a weird thought, nothing to be worried about.”

Delphine’s hand slides off as she pushes the drink into her hands. “Here, maybe you need to drink something.”

Amari takes a shuddery breath, “Yes, um, thank you.” She takes a sip, relaxing. 

“Well, I’ll be making drinks if you need me,” Delphine’s expression is lax, unwound. She moves gracefully, Amari notes. She moves like she’s been alive for centuries; she’s mastered bodily movements. 

The drink is good, and it immediately eases her. She sips it periodically, listening to the music playing and watching the people around her.

Delphine is making drinks behind the counter, humming to herself. She has a tattoo across her collarbone, Amari notes. The woman is sharp. Her gaze, her posture, the way she presents herself— it's cutting. Fierce. 

Everything about the woman is pronounced. She pours the drinks smoothly, grabs the bottles effortlessly, and smiles naturally. She’s pretty, a prominent jawline and long, pin-straight black hair. It’s clasped back, in a low ponytail, with a few strands framing her face. It looks charming, rather than messy, and Amari feels a sense of envy at the way she looks so presentable with low effort.

“Do you want a refill?” Another voice asks.

Amari looks down to see her drink empty— oh, she must’ve finished and not noticed— and up, to see the man— Jules— staring at her. 

“Uh…” 

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

Amari blinks, dazed. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” 

Delphine comes to join Jules, and something about the three of them, together, is nostalgic. 

Before she knows what is happening, Delphine hoists her up by the arm, leading her towards an opening to the side of the bar. 

Half of Amari’s brain is sluggish, but the other half screams. “What the— what the hell,” she struggles, “Let go! Let go of me!”

“Relax,” Delphine says, lowly, in her right ear. “You’re safe, we just need to talk.”

“Talk?!” Amari screeches, drawing the attention of a couple nearby. They look concerned but don’t move. “Let— Let go of my arm right now or I’ll— I’ll—”

“Avianna, please,” Jules blurts out loudly, “Please, we’re not gonna hurt you!”

Amari’s fight ceases. “What— What— you know that name? It’s… it’s… why are you calling me that, it’s not my name.” Her mind is struggling to catch up as they lead her up the stairs. She notices their grips are looser though, takes that as an opportunity to—

“No! Ugh—”

“Avia— Amari stop it!” 

“Sonuvabitch she broke my nose!”

“Your nose is fine, and Amari— stop struggling or I’m gonna knock you out.” 

The woman in question stops immediately, breathing heavily. She’s seated down a long moment later, onto a chair, and the door is closed, preventing her from leaving. 

“Do you seriously not remember?” Jules asks, clutching his nose. 

Amari’s eyes fly from Delphine to Jules then back. “No, I don’t! And I don’t know what’s going on, let me leave or I’ll call the police!”

“Your phone won’t work from this room,” Delphine informs her, eyes blazing. She takes in a harsh breath, then relaxes. “Avianna— think.”

“My name is Amari.”

Jules and Delphine shared a look. It looks disconcerted, but she can’t identify the exact emotion behind it.

“Okay, Amari,” the former amends. “I’m gonna say a word, okay, and you need to tell me the first emotion you feel.”

“What, are you my therapist now?” Amari hisses. Her whole body throbs, a dull ache spreading across the brain as she shoots up. Her awareness increases, she looks around breathing heavily. 

“Reign,” Delphine whispers.

Amari frowns. “The bar we’re at, why does that matter.”

“Kill.” She ignores Amari, not sparing a glance her way. 

“What should we name our little club?”

“What, the one where we kill humans for fun? We name it Reign, Jules. We Reign those pathetic people.”

“Once a genius, always a genius, Avianna."

Amari gasps, giving them their answer. 

“Morelia,” Delphine goes on.

“Avianna Morelia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, love. I’m Delphine Schuyler.” 

Amari flinches, another answer in itself.

“Knife,” Jules says.

“You use a knife or a gun? I prefer the former, of course. Makes things easier.”

“I prefer my Colt Python.” Delphine presses a kiss to her cheek, “But I rather like seeing you and your… skills.”

“You’re such a flirt, love.”

“Stop it,” Amari cries out, thrashing. “Stop!”

“Government,” Delphine powers on, choosing to disregard her.

“They’re after you, Avianna, more than any of us.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How can you be so sure? They have the new drug— you heard Jules. It’ll erase memory, entire lifetimes of moments.”

“We’ll be okay, ma deuxième moitié, I promise. Us against the world, remember?”

“Us against the world,” comes an echo. “You need to stay careful, my love. I cannot bear a life without you.”

“Stop it, stop it...” Amari’s eyes close as she grips the arm of the chair tightly.

Delphine opens her mouth, but Jules nudges her. “Stop, Delph, she’s in pain.”

“No, we can’t. Not now.” The slightest bit of desperation colors her normally even tone. “We’ve been calling you, Avi, in your dreams. We’ve been trying to call you, don’t you remember?” 

“Delphi, take a breath, you’re—” 

“Mylo.”

“Avianna, love, we, uh. We got some bad news.”

“Huh?” Avianna looks up, confused. “What bad news.”

“Mylo, he— he didn’t make it from the scouting run.”

The world stops, clocks freeze, everything stands, and for a moment, there is quiet. “No,” she whispers. “No, no, not Mylo, not my brother—”

“I’m sorry Avi,” Delphine whispers soothingly, gripping her lover tightly as she cries against her, body wracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Only a few minutes later, Avianna straightens up, expression numb. She smiles, eyes hungry for vengeance. It’s terrifying against her beautiful, angelic features. “We’ll make those bastards pay. I’ll make them bleed and watch as every single one of those pathetic agents begs for the mercy they won’t get.”

Outside, Amari howls in pain. “Stop,” she sobs. “Please, please, stop.” 

Jules’ expression breaks into one of anguish. “It’s working,”

“I need to get her back,” Delphine hushes, treading a hand through her lost lover’s hair. Despaired, she trembles, closing her eyes and leans in front of Amari’s shaking form. “Please,” she breathes, kissing her forehead, “Please, my darling, my love, please wake up.”

Amari stops quivering almost immediately. 

“Wait, do that again,” Jules says urgently, relief spreading through his form. He composes himself. “Looks like we might get our reign queen back after all,” he wonders aloud.

“Huh?” Delphine looks wretched mentally. She nictitates, trying to regain her poise. “What do you mean?”

“She responded to your touch.” Jules runs a hand through his hair. It messes the locks rather than fixing them, but he pays it no mind. “She’s… her memories are searching for you, she’s conflicted.”

Delphine leans forward, “Avianna, love.” She presses a light kiss, barely a flutter, onto Amari’s cheek. “It’s okay, honey, you’re safe here, I promise with my whole heart.”

Amari’s eyes move behind her lids. She groans, “Avianna… Amari… who? I am… who?”

“Her memories are coming,” Jules chips in, almost giddy. 

“Wake up, my darling,” Delphine soothes, “I’m right here.”

Amari jerks upwards, expression twisted into a grimace. 

For a moment, the future seems bright. 

The three of them, back like old times, drinking crappy beer and hanging under the stars. The three of them, who used to be four with Mylo, who sang in horrible tunes using the karaoke machine they’d stolen from a couple they’d murdered. The three of them— best friends until death did them apart. Well, until memory did.

Avianna and Delphine: two star-crossed lovers, dancing under the moon as their old radio plays their favorite romantic hits. Avianna and Delphine, who stole kisses after close encounters, whispered loving exchanges behind the closed doors. Avianna and Delphine, who loved each other more than they loved themselves.

Avianna, the fiercest out of the three. The one who’s most wanted, the one who everyone loves, the one who everyone wants to be. Avianna, who’s Delphine’s star, her moon, her sun, her beyond. Avianna, who was taken by the government and brainwashed into believing she was an innocent woman named Amari May.

Day— going out and tracking people to eliminate. Night— climbing out of vans and creeping towards people, causing havoc when the lights open and four people are on the floor dead. Day— preparing to outsmart the government after them. Night— reloading guns and sharpening knives. 

Their jobs weren’t righteous, but they didn’t live to be moral. 

Their lives weren’t meant to be nice, but they made do until the government ruined everything and everyone and their whole society but in the eye of this hurricane, the future seems dazzling, dangling, right there, an arm away—

Amari flies up, eyes regaining their previous spark, then yells again, flinching away from Delphine’s hand. “My name is Amari May and you need to let me go!”

The future slips from their hands.

I am a murdered woman, Avianna had told them once, a long time ago. I take and take and take and someday it will come back to me, I know it. And when it does, I am prepared. In another life, I could have been an innocent girl, working at a cafe or restaurant, going to bars for fun with friends. In another life, I could have lived with the intent of good. But people like us; We don’t have a choice. We do what it takes to survive. 

If something happens to me, she had told Delphine, you must go on. There is no other option.

Delphine closes her eyes and steps back, shuddering.

Amari was in the heart of a murdered woman, someone who had taken the lives of so many others, and she sat there. Oblivious.

Maybe that was the irony. The people they had fought against for so long gave her everything she had wanted, after all. 

[END OF PART ONE]