a quick note.

Rhes and Sarah,

This is Molly. She’s a friend of mine and she needs your help. I’m sorry there’s no notice, but I know I can count on you. Please do this for me. She has the same problems I had. I don’t know if you knew what those all were, but you’ll find out soon enough. Rhes, think Basquiat.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. There’s something dangerous I have to do. I can’t explain. It’s too fucked up. Everything is fucked up, but I want you to know that right now, at this moment, I am okay. Better than I ever was. Clean and sober and I have a reason to live, even though I don’t know if I will.

That’s why I need you to help her. Please. She’s just a kid, and I need her to live, even if I don’t. Don’t worry about hearing from Molly’s former employer. Dead people don’t spend much time looking for ex-employees.

If Molly needs someone to hate, let her hate me.

Thank you so much. I love you both.

- Two

P.S. - NO METHADONE.

The last line was a gamble. If Molly read it, and knew what methadone was, she would never make it to Sid’s bar. If she knew that Two was sending her to a life without heroin, she’d choose the street. Two didn’t think Molly would understand it though, and wasn’t sure that Molly would even read the note. It was a risk, but it was important. Methadone caused more problems than it solved.

Two folded the note in half once, then again, and taped it shut. “Take this. Don’t read it. Just give it to Rhes. Trust me.”

Molly looked concerned. “You sure about this, Two?”

“Absolutely. Rhes is a sweet guy, and his girlfriend Sarah’s wonderful. You’re going to live with them, for a while at least. They’ve got a big black dog named Jake. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

“Where am I going to get a fix?”

It hurt to lie to Molly, but there was no choice. Two looked into the girl’s eyes and did her best. “Rhes will take care of that. Do you trust me, Molly?”

“Yes, Two.”

“Good. Give me a hug and then get the hell out of here.”

Molly embraced her again, and Two hugged back. She hoped to make it through the dark days ahead, but knew it was unlikely. Molly was redemption. Even if Two failed and Abraham destroyed her, Molly at least was safe.

After a moment, they broke apart. Molly was crying again when she said goodbye, but she moved resolutely toward the door. At its edge, Two called to her.

“Hey, Molly?”

The girl turned around, cocked her head, raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Do you still pray every night?”

“I stopped. I didn’t think God was listening.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Maybe I’ll start again.”

“Then do me a favor, Molly. Pray for me, okay?”

* * *

Two lit a cigarette and leaned back, lost in thought. It hurt, seeing Molly, but in that bittersweet way; as much pleasure as pain. Sam spoke up.

“Seems like a nice kid.”

Two nodded. “She is.”

“There’s no fix waiting for her with this guy Rhes, is there?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Think she’ll make it through?”

“God, I hope so.”

“You forgot to tell her why she should pray for her.”

Two gave Sam a bitter smile. “No. I didn’t forget.”

Sam stood up, stretched, walked over to the desk and looked Two in the eyes. “He’s going to kill you, Two. I’m sorry, but this is crazy.”

Two shook her head. “You can’t talk me out of it, Sam.”

“Too bad. I’m not going to stop trying. Will you bring Tori?”

“Yes.”

“Will she fight him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if he kills her too?”

Two smacked her hand down on the table and looked up at Sam, eyes flaring. “Then he fucking kills us both. Tori’s probably better off anyway. That was the decision. That was the plan. Kill Tori, Kill Melissa, drop you in the city and run like hell. Abraham just fucked it up.”

Sam took a step back, holding up her hands. “Okay, Two. I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”

“No, we’re beyond that. This is the easiest thing in my life, Sam. I have no choice.”

Sam shrugged. There were plenty of choices. Two had already made hers. Two dragged at her cigarette, blew smoke into the dark room, tried not to think about Theroen. She didn’t want to think of him until the next evening, until she was working herself up to a fever pitch of fury and hatred, ready to kill