They say Crystal City never sleeps.
Certain pockets, however, grew quiet at night. Sonata could smell the negativity as her footsteps echoed off of the silence of the neighborhood. See it, even. But try as she could, she was unable to digest it anymore.
The green tendrils seeping out of the apartments taunted her mercilessly, sending her into a most uncomfortable state. Like a balloon inflated in her chest balanced on the precipice of anticipation and terror, waiting for the sweet release of emotion—whether it be the spicy hatred she was most a fan of, or tangy despair which would do in a pinch.
She’d even take bitter sadness at this point. Anything to feel as she once did. But it was to no avail.
The teasing was especially cruel, considering she was heading towards the nearest ATM she could look up before her phone died. She grunted as she ruefully recalled Dagi telling her to keep it charged before she left the house.
Stupid Sonata.
What made it even worse was that she needed to get to the ATM because her car ran out of gas. She exhaled through her nose. Crystal City was the only place her phone said had pizza this late at night, so off she gallivanted to Crystal City without checking the gas tank.
Like an idiot.
Her sneaker made landfall in a puddle, lightly splashing the water every which way as she headed towards the ATM. She couldn’t even call Dagi or Ari to pick her up… not that she’d want them to, anyway. They’d just call her names.
Like stupid.
Or useless.
Or worthless.
Sonata wouldn’t say they were on good terms before the Battle of the Bands fiasco, but afterwards everything hit the fan. She remembered waking up the next day thinking someone had set her on fire, her skin laced with invisible barbs that pierced her soul.
Judging by the mood the other two were in that day, she presumed they were going through the same thing. Sonata shook her head, thinking how they even had the energy to scream at and blame each other when she could barely swallow strips of microwave bacon. She didn’t have the energy to make herself feel better, let alone the other two.
After about five days, the symptoms subsided, but a sense of loss and hunger remained. The dreams were the worst. She’d still have her powers, the ability to provoke and ingest the darkness that resided in people’s hearts. Sonata would wake up and swipe at her throat only to be reminded that ecstasy was forever beyond her reach.
She spotted the ATM and beelined towards it, approaching it and gazing at her reflection for a few moments. Her gaunt, racoon-eyed reflection. She saw no need to take care of herself now that life had lost its luster.
She pulled her debit card out of her wallet, inserted it into the machine, and logged into her account.
At least I still have money.
It was at this point she felt something cylindrical press into the back of her head. Judging by the temperature, metallic as well.
Sonata groaned. “Look, I don’t have time for this, I’ve had a—”
“Girlie, I’ll tell you what you have time for. Now—”
“I’m just going to make my withdrawal now.” Sonata carefully peered through the options, not really caring if she died right now. It’d save her a whole host of trouble.
“Money. Now.”
The unknown mugger pressed slightly into her head, leaving Sonata with the window to turn around, push his arm out of the way, and kick him in the crotch. The man curled up as he fell to the sidewalk as a pipe rolled away from him.
Sonata’s breathing became shallow as she clenched her jaw, her eyes darting between her incapacitated aggressor and the pipe. She stomped over to the pipe, picked it up, and headed back towards the man.
She glared at him, pipe in hand. “This is what you tried to rob me with?”
“Look, honey, I don’t have enough for a gun, why do you think I was—”
A scream escaped from his lips as Sonata brought the pipe down onto his knee, the sounds of his bones cracking veritable music to her ears as a translucent green fog coalesced around his form.
“I don’t care. I’ve had a really bad night,” Sonata said as she hammered the pipe into this other leg, the sickening crunch pleasuring her almost as much as his impotent wailing, “and you just tried to rob me with a pipe.” She walked around him and straddled him, her reasoning that he was in too much pain to fight back. “Now give me a good reason why I should let you go, because I have a lot of stress I need to work off.”
She could smell the ambrosic terror, even taste it as it poured out of him, which infuriated her even more. It was as if he was specifically sent to piss her off. His eyes shifted left and right. She could almost see the hamster wheel spinning in his head as his luscious fear clouded her senses.
She needed to feed, urgently, but couldn’t.
“Too late,” she growled.
His eyes popped open. “Wait, wai—”
He was silenced by a swift blow to the head. Then everything went black.
When she came to, her face was spattered in blood and by what used to be in his head. She blinked a few times as she stared at where his head once was. Sonata then wiped down the pipe with his shirt and eased herself into a standing position.
Not exactly what I needed, but it’ll do for now.
She went back to the machine to finish her withdrawal.
Pocketing the money, she turned back around to look at her handiwork. She needed to do something with the body, not to mention the blood covering her face. Sonata looked around and spotted an alleyway with a dumpster.
Perfect.
Sonata dragged what once was a man into the alleyway, then pushed open the cover of the dumpster, the rotten stench of refuse cloying at her throat.
She hummed and licked her lips. The resulting sensation almost knocked her off of her feet.
The beautiful consciousness of panic spidered across her brain and straight into her heart, her breath hitching as she caught the edge of the dumpster for balance. She took a few shallow breaths as tears trailed down her face. She smiled.
She coated her fingers with some more of the blood on her face and sucked on it, the new yet familiar rapture popping the balloon in her chest and bringing her at peace as her vision tinted red.
Of course.
