I Swear I Didn't Kill Him

“But I swear I didn’t kill him!” Raya’s voice rang through the silent streets.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Zuri grasped Raya around the wrist and dragged her toward the nearby alleyway. 

“I don’t care what happened, but you don’t get to say anything on the subject until I figure out what the hell to do with you. This is why translators aren’t allowed on missions and I don’t care if you’re smart but we’re never doing this again,” Zuri’s fury rolled off her tongue in fiery waves that made Raya take a step back.

“I’m… sorry. I thought I was helping,” Raya said softly. 

At this Zuri melted.

“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out…. Home?” Zuri asked.

“Home,” Raya replied.

The two then started their way back through the patchwork maze of side streets and tunnels until they reached their apartment building.

It was a tightly built brick building that could trace its history all the way back to the late 1800s. Originally a Jewish sweatshop, the tenement had been converted into apartments in the 1950s.

Raya and Zuri climbed the rickety stairs to the fourth floor, stopping to chat with neighbors along the way.

“Long night?” Mrs. Mendoza from 305 asked.

With a sly glance at Raya, Zuri replied “you could say that.”

Mrs. Mendoza glanced knowingly at the expression of Zuri’s face, then turned to Raya’s pant leg that was not exactly the same shade of blue that they had been when the girls had left but instead was home to a patch that was slightly darker than the rest of the fabric.

“Well,” Mendoza said, “good luck to you both and try to get some rest. You know Clyde will have all sorts of thoughts for you tomorrow.”

And with that she continued down the stairs—most likely to purchase herself a back of potato chips and a coke from the bodega down the street.

“I can’t believe her,” Raya had gone from fearful to indignant in just 20 minutes.

“Oh?” Zuri questioned.

“She just… I don’t care if she’s been here for 40 years, she acts so all-knowing it just pisses me off.”

“Raya we both know she actually does know every god-damned thing about us. I know she comes off a little strong, but it’s not like she doesn’t think we do a good job or anything. And anyways she’s right, we should make the most of the time we have left.”

“That’s a cheery way to put it,” Raya grumbled, but conceded to continue upstairs to the flat.