-ALEXANDER-

-She Ruins My Life and Still Wants Twenty Bucks for Take-out-

“I’m going to kill her.”

“It’s not even that bad” Chris adds, trying to calm me down.

I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror in my apartment looking at my nose and eye sockets, which were now a nice shade of purple, yellow and black. 

“I swear to God there is no way I’m living with that psychotic nutjob.” I said, still wiping semi-dried blood off of my face and neck with a flannel. 

“Well you can't get rid of her, you'll get fired” Chris said, clearly still not on my side.

“I don't care, someone else will hire us!” I yelled, turning my head to look at Chris who was behind me.

“Not with no new songs” He replied.

I growled and threw the bloody flannel aggressively into the sink.

“Y'know, basic human kindness would have prevented this from happening” Chris said, gesturing at my face.

“Y’know, the parts where you talk to her nicely because you know she feels bad because she has no one?” He explained slowly to me. I somehow frowned harder and pushed past him out of the bathroom. 

“Or just continue doing what you're doing” Chris finished with a sigh. “Because it's working SO well”.

Octavia was sitting cross legged on the couch but leaning forward and ruffling the carpet with her hands.

“What're you doing?” I hissed at her.

“I dunno, waiting?” She said back.

“For what?” I hissed again, raising my voice.

“For you to stop posing in the mirror and come out and write a goddamn song like you're supposed to.” Octavia replied back, with as much patience as she could.

“I ain’t writing shit with you!” I screamed, finally losing it.

“I don't want you in my house! I don't want you near my friends, I don't want you near my life!” I continued, yelling from the kitchen across the apartment to her.

She looked down, silent, then chuckled quietly.

“Just like everyone else… New record, one hour.” She said with a small, weak smile.

I was silent, staring at her, not sure what to yell about next.

Octavia sat up and wandered over to my desk, her feet making little slapping noises as she walked barefoot across the lino. She picked up the small, dark brown acoustic guitar from the corner and returned to the couch.

Then she started to play.

Then she started to sing.