Tell Them This When I Die

Two and a Half Litres

Nikolas opens the door, black hair messed. He looks to the right and as he does, Eris squeezes by. He spins fast, reaching for her, and she ducks again, further into the room.

"Call Kirk with a correction," she says.

"Bitch. Bitch with fucking nerves of steel," he spits.

Eris backs away from him as the door shuts behind him. "Call Kirk, Niky. Now."

"Get the fuck out of my apartment, Eris. I'm not calling anyone."

"You want it to be over? You want this to be the end? You don't call Kirk, it's the end."

He smiles, and Eris realizes how sharp his teeth are for perhaps the first time. "But if I do call Kirk, then we're still together? Is that your stance?"

"Yes, Niky. Just call Kirk."

"I'm not calling Kirk. I'm not calling Kirk; we're not breaking up. But you are getting the fuck out of this apartment. Give me a week. Give me a week until I can see you without beating the shit out of you."

Eris takes a breath, taking one more step towards the window, away from him and the door. If she's going to bleed, she might as well get it all done now.

"I've changed the programing on the locks, Nikolas," she says, proud that her voice doesn't waver. "You're not coming by the penthouse again. You're fired from Nyx. You're going to call Kirk because if you don't, I'm sending the cops every piece of evidence I have on you. I have pictures of you handing buyers cocaine. I have pictures of you snorting it. I have—" She takes a step back as he takes one forward. "I have video footage of you beating countless people nearly to death—"

The smile cuts her off. "People that you sent me to beat nearly to death? People you asked me to get rid of? You fucking bitch."

"I have an entire file of shit that'll put you in jail and keep me out. If you don't call Kirk, I'm going to send it."

"You're not sending anything. And you're not leaving until you tell me where that file is."

Eris shakes her head. "Call Kirk. I'll give you the file when you hang up."

His smile is stone. It doesn't morph, move, change. "Tell me where the file is, Eris. I swear to god, I'll break every fucking bone in that pretty face. You won't wear that red dress for months."

Eris isn't scared of broken bones or bruises. He can punch and kick and damage. As long as he doesn't break the skin. She prays he won't break the skin.

"Call Kirk," she says, lifting her chin.

He steps forward. Eris could duck, run, but this is so inevitable. Two birds with one stone. One beating, and she gets rid of Nikolas and gets Adam his job back. It's inevitable.

"I've been good to you, Eris," he whispers.

Kind, kind Nikolas. Kind Nikolas that spent years choking her nearly to unconsciousness because he knows she doesn't like blood. Kind, kind Nikolas that is great to be around until he doesn't feel like he holds all the power.

"Call Kirk," she whispers back. She knows it's going to happen. Inevitable, she tells herself.

"Tell me where the file is."

Eris shakes her head, her back to the window frame. Inevitable.

"Five and a half litres," he says. He steps in front of her, raises his hand to brace himself on the wall above her head.

Eris isn't scared of pain. Broken bones and bruises.

"Five and a half litres," he mumbles to her, the number brushing her face. "That's how much you've got in you. But you can lose two and a half before you die, and I won't kill you, Eris. Never. But I'm going to have two and half litres of your blood on the ground before I call Kirk. Don't make me do that to you. I really don't want to."