Pariah Read Online Free PDF Page A

no-frills manicure. Tears blurred her vision.
    “I brought your water,” she said again, her voice thinner than she was.
    “Ellen,” a voice cried out from below. “Don’t look at this! Pull your head inside!”
    Was Mike trying to spare her? That was so Mike of him, always trying to protect her feelings, even now. She was sorry she couldn’t oblige, though. She was vapor locked.
Sorry, Mike. Sorry about everything
.
    By the time her temporary immobilization eased, all that was left of dear, sweet Mike was a dark crimson stain on the pavement and some picked-clean bones. Ellen wrested her fingers from the mortar, contemplated jumping, reconsidered, and slumped to the floor, hugging herself, taking no solace from her bony limbs and digits.
    Former mother.
    Now former wife.
    Next door she heard Eddie bellow something unintelligible. But his tone, as always, was ugly and portended trouble.
    And now she was alone.

3

    “Open the door, Ellen!” Alan implored.
    He’d raced up the stairs and now pounded on the door of 4A. This was excitement no one needed or wanted, least of all him, but he couldn’t just sit in his apartment and pretend it hadn’t happened. He’d heard the howl from the alley and had looked down in time to see Mike’s head come off, a sight he hoped Ellen had been spared from her vantage point, but probably not. He’d looked up from the alley’s floor and seen Ellen perched at her windowsill, eyes like saucers swimming in roomy sockets. Ellen didn’t seem to hear him. He’d pled for her to look away. Instead she’d watched her husband transform from significant other to outdoor buffet. And it wasn’t even eight in the morning.
    “Ellen, come on!” Alan cried. “Open the door! Please, Ellen!”
    Across the narrow hall the door to 4B opened and Eddie appeared, standing in the doorway in his boxers, which hung too low beneath his diminished waist. “What’s the fuckin’ ruckus?” he said, just oozing compassion.
    “Mike . . . ,” Alan began, then stopped himself. Eddie’d findout soon enough, but why tip the hand? If he and Dave were unaware of Mike’s demise, why let them know? They’d just up the harassment ante on Ellen.
    “What
about
Mike?” Eddie said, raising an eyebrow.
    “Nothing. I just need to talk to Ellen.”
    “What for?”
    “Jesus, Eddie, whyn’t you mind your business? You’re like a hausfrau looking for gossip. I swear; if we still had power you’d be sitting on the couch watching your
stories
.”
    “I’ve got no problem busting your fuckin’ lip open, wiseass,” Eddie growled, wagging a finger. “Just you remember that. Seriously.”
    “Uh-huh. That’s great,” yawned Alan, indifferent.
    “You just better hope I never bulk up again, faggot.”
    Alan smirked. “I count on it.”
    And with that, Eddie slammed the door shut. Once upon a time Eddie had spooked Alan, but that was fifty or so pounds ago. Now they were both in the same weight class. Fact was Alan had a little
more
meat on him than Eddie because he’d been better at squirreling away, much better. Not that Eddie needed to be privy to that info. Alan tried the doorknob again, rattling it. Locked, of course. Who’d keep an unlocked door, especially with those goons next door? After several minutes, the clack of multiple dead bolts unlocking came from the other side of the door and it opened a crack, revealing Ellen’s gaunt shell-shocked face.
    “I don’t know what to say,” Alan said, feeling stupid for having said it.
    “Come in, Al.” Ellen opened the door wider and stepped aside, which seemed a formality considering she was too attenuated to block his entrance. She wore a pale-pink tank top that accentuated her lankness, her neck cords so pronounced Alan fought the insane temptation to strum them.
    “I saw what happened. When you didn’t answer the door I was afraid you’d done something to yourself.”
    Ellen just stared at Alan, eyes glassy with grief. She plopped herself