"All that money, the money is the motive
All that money, the money is the motive
All that money, the money she be foldin'
Girl put in work,"
~ The Morning, The Weeknd

*****

At 3am I texted Niccolò one simple message.

Today. Get to where you want us to meet, and be there by 9am.

He didn't reply, and I was partly grateful for that. I didn't need any of his snide comments. I didn't want to hear from him.

I left the house at 5am. I didn't want to see Roman. Maybe I was a coward, but I didn't care. I was about to betray him. It was different when it was all ifs and maybes. But now I'm this close.

At some point, I took up jogging. Today, jogging turned to running which turned to full blown sprinting. I didn't even know where I was going. I just ran. It had snowed, which made it harder, but I didn't care.

Would you please have...mercy...mercy on my heart?

Whoever the fuck Shawn Mendes is, he really knows how to play guilt trip.

I thought of Roman. I thought of what his first reaction might be when he finds out about my deception. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to get this over with. I just wanted to fucking disappear, once and for all.

*****

"Why are you like this?"

Chris tilted his head to the side and looked at me. "Like what?"

"So mean? So cruel? What have I ever done to you to deserve this? What has anyone ever done to deserve you?"

He reached forward and swiped a thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized fell. He leaned back and looked at me, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. He looked like he was thinking, considering the answer.

I wanted to know. I wanted to know how someone could be like that. So empty and emotionless?

Finally, he spoke.

"When I was younger, my mom use to read to me. She'd read me stories before bed and then kiss my head and then tuck me in. Every night, without fail. She was kind and sweet and loving. My dad wasn't much different. He loved me in his own way, but he preferred life lessons to stories. And he once told me that if I really wanted it, and I really worked for it, I'd grow up to be a great man with a lovely wife and two rascals of my own."

"So you grew up in a happy home, with parents who had high hopes for you. The horrors. I'd probably traffic women too if I had an upbringing like yours," I drawled sarcastically.

He laughed. "No, you're right. That's what I'm saying. Sometimes there isn't a story. Sometimes we're pulled to the darkness...sometimes we're drawn to it. Sometimes we walk to it willingly."

"So you're just crazy."

"No, Cherry, I'm sane." He grinned at the look on my face. "Oh. I get it."

He slid off the bed and onto his knees on the floor in front of me.

"You were hoping for a sob story. Maybe my dad was like Tyler's. Maybe I was so angry, I decided to lash out at someone else. Maybe my mom was like yours. A drunk, pathetic, shell of a woman who abandoned me." He pouted mockingly. "Maybe the world turned me into this cold monster. Evil isn't born, is it? It can't be. Or else we don't stand a fucking chance."

He poked my cheek and pushed, making my head turn.

"Look at you. You don't understand anything, do you? You just want there to be a light at the end the tunnel." He shook his head and tsked. "No, Cherry. Unfortunately, you'll be in this tunnel your entire life."

He leaned forward, and I turned my head to look at him.

"Nothing to say? Is it sinking in yet? I am all you have. I am all you will ever have."

"No—"

"Yes. This is your life lesson, baby. This is the key piece of information. This is all you ever need to know. Are you listening? Nod. I said nod if you're listening...good." He cupped my face with both hands. "The world is mean, and cruel, and dark, and cold, and evil. And we make it that way. Me. And you. And everyone like us—and even people who aren't like us." Tears spilled down my face and he kissed them away. "Oh, Cherry. You're so sad. Why are you so sad? What did I tell you? I told you I would take care of you."

"I don't want to do it anymore." My hands shook. "Please. Just let me go. I—"

"Let you go?"

"Please..."

"Where would you go, Cherry? You have nothing. No one. Where would you go? Hm? Who would take care of you?"

My mouth opened and closed.

"Who's going to want you?" Chris stroked my jaw with his thumb, a small smile on his face. "If I don't, who will?"

I couldn't answer that. I didn't need to. We both know the answer.

"Who's going to love you?" I looked down, but he pushed my chin back up with his index finger so I was looking at him. "Who's going love you but me, Cherry?"

"I—"

"It's okay. One day you'll understand. You'll understand survival. You'll understand sacrifice. Some day soon, Cherry, it'll be you ruining a life. And I'll be so proud of you."

*****

I ran back home. I walked in, my heart hammering in my chest. Please don't still be here.

"Roman?" I called out.

Silence replied.

I tried again, walking further into the house. "Rome?"

Still nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief and went upstairs to shower. I took a hot shower. I don't know how I was in there for, but it was long enough for my skin to wrinkle and turn red. I climbed out when I couldn't take the heat anymore. I checked the weather on my phone.

34.

And it would snow again in a few hours.

My eyes closed.

"You also know what happens to snow once too many people touch it. Once too many cars drive over it, once too many feet walk through it." Chris touched my cheek tenderly. "It's no longer white. It won't get back to how it was before. And even though we know what it looked like, even though we remember how beautiful it once was...all we see is the dirty, black snow."

He'd compared me to snow. I use to love snow.

Now I couldn't stand it. I got dressed quickly, putting on a turtleneck, some leggings, a jacket, and boots. My eyes landed on a duffel bag high on a shelf in the closet. I stood on my tippy-toes and tried to reach it. I was tall, but not tall enough. I grabbed the chair in front of my vanity mirror and walked back to closet.

This time I got it. It was big enough. Or it should be.

I put the chair back and slung the bag over my shoulder. I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs to the basement.

Something dark settled inside me as I walked towards the back where Rome had lifted up the carpet. Guilt?

I sighed and lowered myself, slowly gripping the carpet and peeling it back. My heart began hammering in my chest the minute my eyes landed on the safe. Just do it. Put in the code and go. 5397. 5397. Put it in and go.

My hand went to the keypad. I pressed the first number. 5. Then the next. 3. 9.

My finger hovered over the 7. If I did this, there was no going back. Do it. Just fucking—

7.

There was a click. Slowly, I opened it. And there it was. Hundreds of hundreds stacked on top of each other. I picked one stack up, my mouth falling open.

"Holy fucking shit," I breathed, picking up another. Then another. Then another. I couldn't help it—I laughed. "Holy shit."

I started filling up the bag. I filled it until nothing else fit. The safe was almost empty by the time I was done.

I ran back upstairs and back to the closet, grabbing a backpack off the floor. I filled that up until nothing else fit. There was still money, but I decided to leave it.

Just before I closed it, something in the corner caught my attention. I pulled it out, the object heavy in my hand. I swallowed thickly, and tucked it in my jeans.

I closed the safe, covered it back up, and hiked the bag onto my back. The bag plus the duffel was heavy, but I pushed through it and headed back upstairs.

I pulled out my phone and texted Nic after checking the time. 8:13.

Send me the coordinates.

*****

I was beyond guilt.

I couldn't feel guilty. I needed to forget. This was it. I glanced in the passenger seat at the bags.

I actually fucking did it.

I don't know how much I had, but it was a lot. It was enough.

I was twenty minutes away from where I was supposed to meet Nic. There'd be a helicopter, and it'd take us away.

It would be okay.

The closer I got, the more I thought.

And one single thought kept nagging me. I licked my lips and glanced at the bags again.

One day you'll understand. You'll understand survival.

I could see the helicopter. My heart was hammering in my chest. I could see them. Five of them. They heard the car and turned, watching as I slowed to a stop at the side of the road.

It was a large open space. I hadn't seen a house for miles. I guess it was easier to land a helicopter in the middle of nothing.

I didn't move. I looked at them look at me. They were watching. Waiting. And that thought just kept nagging at me.

I bit my lip.

You'll understand survival.

I made up my mind. I climbed out with the backpack and duffel bag in both hands.

"You did it!" Niccolò called out, a wide grin on his face. "I didn't think you would."

"Me neither."

"Let's go, then!"

I moved towards them. One of the guys climbed up into the helicopter, and the blades starting spinning, slowly getting louder and louder.

I suddenly stopped, and dropped the backpack.

Nic's eyebrows furrowed. "Neila?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could only shake my head.

"Neila, let's go!" He shouted.

I didn't move.

"Neila, come on, we gotta go!"

I shook my head. "You don't get it."

"Get what?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I took a deep breathe.

You'll understand survival.

"I understand now," I said on exhale.

"The hell are you talking about?"

Marino stepped forward and murmured something to Nic but Nic shook his head.

"Neila..." Niccolò took a step forward. "What are you doing?"

I swallowed, my hand going behind my back.

"Surviving."