Felicia hung up the phone, ending her rant that she had left for Adrian. Through her sobs she missed the table where she intended to put her device down, and instead threw it to the floor with unintended force. The smooth glass shattered on the limestone floor tiles, tiny pieces of it went flying and scattered around the scene. Her sobs turned into a piercing moan of woe, and angrily she grabbed fistfuls of her perfect chestnut brown hair and stomped her feet in criss-crossing repetition.

She felt so… lost. So violated and powerless. As if someone had sought her out personally to do irreparable damage and watch the shambles of her life as the walls caved in, and all familiarity and comfort were swept away. Her life partner, for as much as Douglas was her soul mate there were things that even he couldn't understand or relate to, was gone.

The bond that the two sisters shared was complete. Meaning that they fit each other like a pair of gloves. Moreso, they WERE like a pair of gloves. One was built to be with the other.

It had been through long and thoughtful conversations with each other that they had decided upon their own career routes. Alyssa's orderly conduct, attentiveness and ambitious attitude were a perfect match for a role as a medical secretary, and Felicia had been a natural at designing, as well as being creative, free-thinking and detail-oriented. Felicia truly believed that she would not be where she was today without her beloved sister.

And what argument was there to be had against that notion? Hadn’t Alyssa been the one to help Felicia through highschool, the awkward phase of her life where acne riddled her and kids too juvenile to do much else but search for reasons to be bullies tormented her, hadn’t Alyssa been her protector, her role model?

Felicia still clearly remembered one sunny afternoon, finishing up her last class and waiting for her mother to take her home. She had been sitting alone, on the same bench she normally sat on at this time of day. The two friends she had would walk instead of taking the bus, their homes were within a short range. So Felicia sat on a bench nearly everyday to wait for her mom, the exception being on the days that Felicia would call home in tears, her mother or father barely able to discern that she had had another experience with her bullies, a group of four girls that took great joy in reducing her to tears with verbal insults and nasty rumors. Among other things, they had spread the word that her facial blemishes, which were bountiful, were obvious side effects of an STD that they claimed she had. Ridiculous, cruel lies from the start, but they spread like struck matches to dry grass. Soon the whole school had been calling her, amongst other piercing names that she rather not recall right now, “Free Fuck Felicia”. The fact of the matter was that Felicia, at the time and until her own prom party some years later, had never had sex. Nor a single passionate encounter with any boy.

The first years of high school for Felicia had been rough, to put it lightly. Surrounding a colorful, bright, innovative yet unfortunately subdued personality was the skin of a human being going through the processes of puberty. Though not unattractive, she was plagued with several constellations comprised of pimples.

It was a slow, waning slope that grew slippery very quickly. First puberty, followed by the acne. Chasing acne was the girls from her class, eager to boost their self esteem with the destruction of hers. With those walls crumbling invited in depression, therapy and then recommended antidepressant pills. All of the while, as a symptom of depression, the blemishes on her face worsened and reddened.

As a side effect of the pills she was taking, a slight allergic reaction that wasn’t recognized for a full year by her doctor brought on more pimples, which deepened the depression and on and on the wheel would turn.

So it was on one sunny afternoon, one that Felicia could still remember crisply, that she had been sitting on a metal bench painted red with no back to it. It was 3:45, just about the time that her and Alyssa’s mother would pick them up (if Alyssa wasn’t going to her boyfriend’s house as was her habit of late. Not Adrian, of course, they wouldn’t meet for years yet). Felicia had had a rather good day, as it had been. The weather, fair as was her mood. Both Michelle and Mika, her friends, and herself had had a “potluck” of whatever it was that their parents had packed for them that day. Divvied up ham, turkey and cheese sandwiches. Applesauce containers and fruit candies, juice boxes and cookies and carrot slices.

No one had bothered her, and as she admired the fact outside of the front doors after school had finished, she had come to realize that this whole week had been rather peaceful. It was exactly as relaxing as it was nerve-wracking, the taunting she had been enduring for months at this point had hardened her defenses up and she consciously could not lower them without effort, or proof that it was safe to do so.

Felicia raised herself as she sat, thinking the extra few inches would bring her mother’s mini-van closer or make it go faster. Children around her were laughing, playing. Having fun. She was eager to get home. After a failed attempt to call her ride home over to her mentally, she slumped back down.

As the corner of a thrown textbook hit the base of her neck, Felicia sprawled to the ground violently and awkwardly. With the coppery taste of blood on her tongue, and past the pain that was exploding through her spine and head she could hear the people around her growing silent. Tears swam to her eyes and spilled before she could stand up. She saw her own textbook lying flat right below where she had fallen, and the one that had been thrown at her was lying on the pavement past the sidewalk they were on, wide open with the pages facing down. She turned around slowly, not daring to pick up her own book. Like a scene in a horror film, she knew what frightening enemy she would see when she turned around.

Except there were four. All four of the mean spirited girls who had not only (unknownst to Felicia) started the awful rumors about her, but also taken every chance they could to terrorize and ridicule her, were spread out in front of her. As they gained her attention they spread out into a wider formation and took steps in to get closer to her.

“How’d that feel? You fucking whore!” one of them squawked, the others lost their own voices in a cacophony of giggles and screeches they made.

“Pick up my fucking book, Felicia!” another one cawed as she regained composure. She took a hands-on-hips stance and stopped fifteen feet away from her while the other three motioned in closer. All around them a crowd of twenty kids gathered in a more tightly knit half circle, keeping the hostile encounter well-contained inside.

Felicia wiped away her tears and willed her bottom lip to stop quivering. Stand up for yourself, like mom tells you to do. The thought was strong but never left her brain, and as her courage never received the message, it dissolved and fizzled. Soon her whole body was trembling and the trio of girls were now five feet away from her.

She found a safe spot when she closed her eyes, the pounding of her heart cut out all audio and if she concentrated real hard, it was possible to believe that Felicia was actually back in her bedroom, sitting cross legged and hunched under a blanket on her bed. A place where no one could hurt or bother her, and then her mother would come up to console her as she always did. Felicia truly loved her mother, she was an experienced woman who held all of her concern in her eyes, and when she looked at you, you immediately felt better.

One of the girls grabbed Felicia by her hair, digging sharp nails into her scalp. Felicia screamed as she was starting to be dragged, half falling, half tripping to the ground.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! HELP ME SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE HELP ME!” she screamed in a wretched, desperate way. It was of no use. Though there were nearly two dozen onlookers, they all stood either in dumb silence or dumber acclamation. Not one made leave, either to rescue Felicia or seek help. As it was the end of the school day, all teachers were inside of the hallways and foyer, shepherding the kids out of the doors so that they might go back to their classrooms and grade papers, prepare lesson plans and rub their temples in frustration at the day they had spent teaching.

Felicia was dragged until she was reduced to crawling along after the one girl who was leading her like she was a disobedient dog, or a wagon one would pull with a handle. All of the while she was screaming, pleading, begging the girls to let go, to leave her alone. As she was crawling, her hand landed and put out the smoldering butt of someone’s cigarette they had tossed. The burn left a scar that would last for the rest of her life on the ball of her thumb.

Then it was over. The hand that was pulling her let go and Felicia fell face first to the concrete below. Frightened, traumatized and now battered, Felicia blacked out momentarily.

---

When she came to, the first thing she took in was loud voices. They were muddled by her coming back to consciousness and the time that that took lost a lot of the words. Soon the yelling stopped, a lot of voices grew distant. As Felicia opened her eyes, she was picked up by strong arms. Coddled like a baby, she looked across from the person holding her and saw Alyssa. Fresh tears, these of happiness, ran in freshly dried riverbeds.

“Those fucking brats, Felicia. Don’t worry. Are you okay? Nod if you’re okay Felicia.” Felicia nodded, vigorously. Knowing that her sister was here made her feel safe.

“Those BITCHES,” Alyssa yelled the slur so they could hear her as they ran “are gone. Chucky got you away from them, and then they ran when they saw we weren’t going to let them near you. You didn’t tell me that they were bothering you. Does Mom or Dad know about this? Don’t worry about them anymore… me and my friends will let them know they’re not to mess with the Haines.” as she said this, Felicia scrambled for a response. She had none, so she desperately flung her arms out to wrap them around her sister, her savior. Chucky, in surprise, caught her as she slipped from his grip and helped her to her feet. The two sisters embraced, a bond solidified was never formed more strongly for either girl than this.

---

Reliving a cherished memory had been hard but rewarding for Felicia. In a way, she felt like she had said goodbye to Alyssa. Or maybe that she was more… ready for the idea of it. She dabbed her watering eyes with a napkin, mascara that she had applied that morning came off in watery marks. How do I go on being strong, when she was the one I had drawn my strength from?

The front door shut audibly and the sudden thunk made her jolt. Willing herself, she stopped crying and wiped the remainder of her tears away, a matter that took a small fraction of time but not one small enough to hide the scene from her husband, Douglas.

Douglas rounded the corner from the entryway and stopped. A cell phone, Felicia’s, was lying in a broken mess in front of her. She herself was trying to disguise the fact that she had been crying. It took only a second to put the clues together. He rushed over to his wife.

“Felicia, darling, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” he cooed.

“Don’t say that… I can’t stand to hear that.” she replied, a new onslaught of tears fell over the brim of her eyes. Douglas, a little taken aback by this response, hugged her tightly while wearing a confused expression.

“Anything… anything at all that I can do for you… name it, and I will do it.” he said solemnly. She looked at him as he looked at her, and both knew the sincerity that his words were laced with. She breathed them in like a drug.

“It’s Adrian! That… that fucking murderer!” she yelled and fell deeper into his embrace, her strength left her and she became deadweight.

To Douglas, Adrian would always be considered his brother. The two had shared their entire life together, Adrian had given him a backbone and without his advice, Douglas doubted that he would have found the courage to introduce himself to Felicia. They were brothers, they had had a lifetime of experiences together and held almost no secrets from each other. Surely that bond couldn’t be broken? Or could it? Douglas wondered. When he heard of how his own flesh and blood had killed his love’s sister, he had felt pity and sorrow for the loss, but relief for Adrian’s survival. But as the past two days had drawn on, Douglas couldn’t help but notice Felicia was descending. Despite his efforts, Felicia would not smile. Would not laugh, and would scarcely talk. Little at all had been said about the depth of how this tragedy was affecting her. This outburst on his brother was surprising for that matter, Douglas had thought that when her walls broke and she was ready to speak it would surely be about Alyssa, and the pain she felt in grieving for her. Never had he expected her to so bluntly accuse him of killing. Douglas couldn’t see that still, but during this eruption he felt true unbridled hate for his brother. Always he had looked up to Adrian, followed his advice. And when will it end? When will I be my own man… no, Adrian didn’t kill Alyssa. But he has damaged my wife. He has hurt the woman I love, the one who looks up to ME for safety and comfort. And this was the final straw, dangling above a back-breaking load and tempting to overwhelm.

To Felicia, Adrian had been a brother-in-law much before herself and Douglas were wed. Always he had treated her like family, and it was such an easy decision to suggest Alyssa for him and him for Alyssa. Were they not also a matching pair? Felicia thought she had recognized it. She rued it now. A terrible choice, to put anything beautiful in the hands of a creature who could whip and try to mold a gentleman like Douglas. To force him to play second fiddle when he ought to have taken the backseat himself. She saw this now, in hindsight and glasses tinted red with hate. Was it a lack of foresight into Adrian’s life, his personality and ego? Was it possible to have prevented this? She thought not, ultimately. How could she know that Adrian was a monster in human skin? Douglas loved him… but was it possible that love had been confused with a drug that was hard to pull away from? Felicia quickly looked into Douglas’s eyes and saw sorrow mixed with understanding, and she knew. Felicia knew that Douglas couldn’t hate Adrian. That bond was deep, maybe even deeper than her own and Alyssa’s had been. But Douglas was blind, or addicted to this relationship… and she could see it. Maybe… Maybe I can end it, or twist it… For Douglas’s well-being. Do I have it in me, or am I still that scared little girl?

“Felicia…” Douglas interrupted her thought. He gestured to the broken phone and moved to gather up the remains. She stopped him by resting her hand on his.

“We need to talk. It’s about Adrian…” she saw Douglas freeze and swallow a hard lump. She pressed on, talking nervously and through (now slightly forced) tears.

“He… he called me. Adrian called me, and he was so overcome with guilt, Douglas. Oh, his wording was impressive, never actually saying he deliberately killed my sweet sister… but if you could have read between the lines, Douglas! Adrian knows what he did, and he must have lied somehow, about something to the police! And now my poor… gentle…” Felicia lost herself in a fresh batch of grief, Douglas was quick on the draw to console her.

That was when the final straw joined the pile, and Douglas’s metaphorical back had been broken. The pain that Adrian could cause not just one family, but two… it was unmendable. And with what Felicia had just told him… Douglas didn’t think he could ever look at his brother again. Slowly, but with growing tenacity, a fiery rage began to bloom within Douglas. And he named it Adrian.