On Black Sand Beaches

By Maddie Cincala

Things to Remember About the Dream World:

1: Physical sensations are not real here. They are only interpreted in one’s mind. Close your eyes and set your intention. Hold onto it even as you drift. Focus. Focus on her. Think about her voice and the way she always kept you grounded. Think of her soft black hair and smooth skin, remember its warmth and the comfort it brought holding her close. Focus on her essence, and she will come to meet you.

I recite this to myself as I lie in bed, only half covered by the grey plush sheets. I do this every night now. I lay here, I manifest, I dream. Anything for a little more time with her. I think as I feel myself drifting off to sleep. When I open my eyes, I am no longer in my bed, but in my bathroom. When I dream, I always start here, a place of vulnerability and privacy. It seems fitting enough to allow myself time to recollect my thoughts.

It’s a poor excuse of a master bath, cramming the toilet, shower, and sink all in a whopping twenty-seven square feet. It came complete with stained tile floors and the ugliest beige paint I’ve ever seen, but the landlord might actually kill me if I ever tied to paint over it. I look into the bathroom mirror to see myself- round face, blue eyes, and bleach blonde hair that reaches the middle of my neck. I take a deep breath, though it feels more like a passing thought than an action. This is the dream working. Sensation is more thought than substance. I turn on the faucet of the chipped porcelain sink, getting that same wrenching squeak as I do in the waking world and rinse my face with water before turning to leave.

When I open the door, I watch as the pool of light from the bathroom spills into the bedroom, illuminating the unmade bed and nightstand which is littered with a variety of snack wrappers, water bottles, and medications. Fortunately enough for me, the ugly beige paint is contained to just the bathroom. The bedroom is a muted blue, but in the dim light, it looks grey. A figure stands in front of the window, looking out at the foggy nothingness beyond. Shay’s figure. The edge of the light just barely dances off her shoulder, giving her side a soft glow that not even a hazy dream image could manage. She turns to look at me and I swear those eyes, even though the life from them is long gone, could give the great Jay Gatsby a run for his money.

“You’re doing it again,” Shay mumbles sheepishly, averting her glance as a subtle blush dust over her cheeks.

“Doing what?” I cross my arms, slowly making my way over to her amongst the dirty clothes strewn across the floor from the past week.

“You’re looking at me with that dumb smile on your face. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Aw, can’t I admire my girlfriend?”

“No… Not really if you think about it,” her voice softens and her gaze falls.

I frown, brows furrowing as I wrap my arms around her and rest my chin on her shoulder. In that moment, I want nothing more. I want to hug her and feel her warmth. I want to be able to tell her it’s okay, but we both know it’s far too late for any of that. This is all we have now. Against the rules of physicality here, I can feel the essence of a tightness in my chest. I know I’ll wake up crying.

I give her waist a gentle squeeze, just as I’ve done so many times before when I still had her with me. “Hey don’t say that. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Shay just shakes her head, drawing away and looking back out that dirty window where the rest of the city should be. “No, we can’t, Jordan. You know that. I… I don’t want you to keep doing this. You can’t.” She hugs herself, leaning her hip against the windowsill and seems to shrink as her figure leaves the edge of light from the bathroom. She now looks frail and scared, barely lit by the meager glow omitting from the window. I know she’s about to cry. I can hear it in her voice, the way it wavers when she says my name.

“What are you talking about? I can keep going- I can-”

“You can what?”  Shay cuts me off, her tone now much sharper. “Keep taking those pills, or-or that melatonin shit? And for what – a few extra hours of sleep?”

“A few extra hours with you.” I correct gently, though I know exactly where this is going.

“This isn’t about me, Jordan! It can’t be. Not anymore. You’re hurting yourself.” Her voice falters at that last bit, and I catch the soft glint of a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t stand to see you sleeping your life away.” Her voice was now barely at a whisper.

“Shay…” I trail off. What can I say? She’s right. She’s always right. “I just miss you. So much.” My own voice wavers now, and though I know I won’t be able to fix things, I come a little closer. I reach out, running a hand through Shay’s dyed black pixie cut, and she lets me, closing her eyes and allowing another tear to glide over her cheek. She lets out a silent breath, the tension in her shoulders finally lessening.

“I know you do. But this isn’t healthy… you know that,” Shay whispers. I do.

“Can’t we talk about it?”

“We can, but in the end we both know you’ll do whatever you want.” She sighs, taking a moment to collect herself before stepping back into the light with me. Despite her crying, her face shows no signs of it. She leads me over to the bed and we lay together, holding each other in a numb embrace. The numbness is a constant reminder that none of this can be real anymore. We stay there together in silence for a moment. Shay plays with my hair while I rest my head on her chest, missing her warmth and her jasmine and tuberose perfume. Missing the rising and falling of her chest as I listen to her heartbeat, always strong and steady, a heartbeat too strong and steady to have been stopped short.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, looking up at Shay.

She scoffs, giving my hair a teasing pull that I don’t actually feel. “Oh, shut up.”

“What? I’m being serious.” I am.

“You’re stalling.” She retorts. That too…

“Maybe… or maybe I’m just flirting.”

“You’re doing both. And neither are working.” Like I said, she’s always right.

“Okay, okay. You got me. What else am I supposed to do? You don’t expect me to just quit cold turkey, do you?” I try to keep it light for now.

“God- you make it sound like I’m an addiction.”

“You are to me-”

Shay rolls her eyes, but there is the faintest trace of a smile pulling at her lips. “Come on Jordan. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The smile fades.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do without you. This place sucks without you,” I mumble, closing my eyes and trying to keep it together. Though physical feeling is different here, I can hear my words choke in my throat, putting a strain in my voice and making it hard to breathe. I hold my breath as if doing so will keep these past six months’ worth of tears and mourning at bay just for this moment. For her.

“It’ll only feel worse the longer you keep this up. You have to move on.” She brings a hand down, caressing my cheek and thumbing over the mole under my left eye. I couldn’t count the times she’d kissed it, calling it my beauty mark and thus slowly chipping away the years of self-conscious efforts to hide it.

“And you said I was making it hard- how do you expect me to do that?” I half tease, though the question remains genuine at its core. The waver in my voice is a dead giveaway.

“You could start by taking care of yourself. Tidy up. Maybe shower. You look stinky.” She grins, though her eyes still have that concern in them that I haven’t been able to shake since we first started doing this.

“Oh, fuck off.” I manage a laugh, pretending to shove her away, and she pulls me closer. She always pulled me closer. “It’s not that bad…” I lie, knowing damn well my apartment is well overdue for a deep clean.

“I’m just saying – maybe you’ll feel a little better after a good cleaning. Air the place out a bit.”

“Maybe. We’ll see how I feel when I wake up.”

“You always say that.”

“But I mean it this time.”

“You always say that too.”

“Alright! Okay. I promise I’ll tidy up and shower tomorrow.” I cave. How could I not?

“And eat some actual food?”

“And eat some actual food.”

“And drink water?”

“Let’s not push it-”

“Fine. Baby steps. I know you can get through this,” Shay whispers and gives me a squeeze. We press our foreheads together and just exist in the moment. The laws of time don’t adhere to dreams, but I feel it all stop, and as she presses her lips to mine, I swear I could feel her warmth again.

Just as I had predicted, I wake up crying, my cheeks cold from the drying tears and my nose running. That tightness in my chest becomes more prominent as I come out of my grog and when I look down, I realize I’ve been clenching my fists in my sleep. Four pink crescents on each palm throb lightly where my nails have dug in, nearly breaking the skin. Great way to start the day, right? My room is dim with the afternoon sun leaking in from the supposed black out curtains that came with the apartment. When I roll over and swipe away the pile of snack wrappers and such on the nightstand, I see that it’s almost three in the afternoon. With that, I roll onto my back and let out a deep sign, staring up at the ceiling and watching the old ceiling fan lazily rotate as the reality sets in yet again. I’m still alone.

I look back down at my hands and eye the silver band on my left ring finger. I’d barely managed to scrounge up enough money for it, and now it feels like a massive weight around my finger. Shay always preferred silver to gold.

I remember when Shay and I started talking about the idea of marriage. We’d just finished moving and unpacking her things into my apartment. We’d gotten a bottle of champagne to celebrate and talk quickly turned to next steps.

“I’m being serious! I want to marry you, Shay. And I’ll be damned if I don’t.” I half teased, knowing then and there that I was going to make it my mission to marry her.

“You’re just saying that.” Shay had accused, taking a sip of her champagne.

“But I’m not. Come on- what kind of ring would you like? No expense is too much.” I announced, though we both knew realistically speaking, there was definitely an amount that was too much.

Shay rolled her eyes but humored me. “Something simple. You hear me? I don’t need something fancy with stones big enough to cut glass.” She crossed her arms, settling onto the couch with a tired groan. “Maybe something modest. And it has to be silver.”

“Ooh how non-traditional” I teased, flopping down onto the couch, and laying myself across her lap. Shay shifted, nearly spilling her champagne as I flopped down and giving me a look before setting the glass on the end table.

“Oh stop. I just don’t like gold. I think it looks tacky.” She huffed a matter-of-factly. “I’ve always been a silver girl.” she hummed, starting to play with my hair, first combing it through with her fingers, then starting to make little braids.

“Noted. And what about ring size?” I grinned.

“Not that I think you’re going to go out and buy one anytime soon, but it’s a seven if you must know. Though, being that we’ve been dating for so long, I would’ve thought you’d know that by now.”

“Oh, you bitch—” I scoffed, playfully swatting at her. “You never wear rings.”

Shay laughed, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I know. I’m just messing with you, dummy.”

I think about that day a lot. I ended up proposing to her that next year. Now Shay’s ring lies six feet under in row “H”, column seventeen in the Blakston Cemetery, most likely tarnishing like the rest of her. The thought alone is enough to bring on a fresh wave of tears every time. However, I know I can’t keep wallowing in my sorrows. I have an apartment and a Jordan to clean. I start with the windows, drawing the shades and then dramatically hissing and cowering at the sunlight currently flash banging my eyes. Shay always got a kick out of that. I can practically see her rolling her eyes at me now and telling me to “quit stalling, this place is a mess.” I allow myself a moment of reminiscing as my eyes adjust before throwing the window open, finally letting the stale, mourning air out, and welcoming the warm afternoon air in. Unlike in the dream world, the small town of Blakston lies beyond: a small-ass town on a seemingly smaller-ass island. It’s like Hawaii, except instead of postcard perfect beaches and kitschy tourist attractions, we have black sand and basalt mining. Woohoo for us?

I continue on, putting on some music and then getting to work, trashing the snack wrappers, water bottles, and half empty soda cans littering nearly every flat surface available in my apartment. Let’s also take a moment to marvel at the fact that I somehow didn’t bring on some kind of infestation of ants or flies with how many sugary drinks and crumbs I was leaving totally unguarded. Honestly, I’ll take that as a win in itself.

Next, I pick up all my dirty clothes strewn about: shirts, pants, bras, underwear. It all goes into a laundry bin and by the time I can see the grey shag carpet of my bedroom floor again, that bin is crammed full. It’s a whole two to three trip kind of job, but I’ll let future Jordan hash that out. After all, I only promised Shay I’d clean… and shower… and eat some actual food.

https://2025.bailysbeads.org/on-black-sand-beaches/

Southern Cooking ‘Kiss Me Meatballs’

By Adriana Herrera

My Secret to the Perfect Meatballs

Meatballs are simple and easy! You need no prior experience, and they can even be fun for the whole family to make together! If you’re feeling brave, readers, I’d definitely recommend this as a date night idea! I can tell you from firsthand experience just how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this recipe from my husband!

Course, that’s not to say that meatballs don’t benefit from the right choice of meat! For my non-beef girls, ground chicken, ground pork and ground turkey are great substitutes! I’m not sure how this recipe would agree with venison or bison, but go for it. I myself had a special meat this time around, the perfect helping of Geoffrey.

Meatballs are Like Marriage

Overview: Meatball Ingredients

• Ground Meat – Usually I adore using a mixture of pork and beef for this recipe! This time however I changed it up to accommodate the new meat that I used! Stacy and Geoffery were a little more of a challenge than usual, no one said that being able to grind your own meat was easy! For tips and tricks on grinding your own meat, see my recipe on The Perfect Ground Meat.
• Seasonings – You can use all sorts of seasonings! Some of my favorites are garlic, parsley, onion, salt, and Worcestershire sauce! This time around for my recipe example, I had to use a LOT of meat based seasonings! Trying to drown out the taste of whore and cheater is difficult after all!
• Breadcrumbs – If you wanna keep your marriage afloat, you need something like a paste! Of course, industrial glue is not the way to go, so use breadcrumbs!
• Parmesan – It’s just cheese. Gives it more flavor. Why am I even writing anymore?
• Milk – Cows make it; you buy it. Is anyone reading this?
• Eggs – Quail, pheasant, chicken, I mean it’s all the same. None of you even read any of this do you? You just push that dumb little button at the top and hope for the best.

No one cares enough to even read about how to make the sauce so they won’t even notice if I skip it.

 
The Best Way to Make Meatballs

                          Make Sure to Enjoy!

https://2025.bailysbeads.org/kiss-me-meatballs/

Turtles

By Gabrielle Wells 

The only useful light source around was the music menu on his dashboard displaying the album cover of a Bon Iver album. Late summer air coated in dewey moss and crisp pines rushed in through the windows. My hair whipped around the passenger seat as I rested my head against the matte leather headrest and took in the moment with shaky breaths. The cool balmy air stroked along the slopes of my cheekbones as if preemptively swiping away the heralding call of tears. Reminding me the road would not disappear upon our absence.  

We’d already been driving down that winding road for nearly 30 minutes, but hidden places would not be revered if not buried in sprays of untamed wildflowers and assemblies of hushed maples. A concealed driveway is what he turned onto and wound up a steep gravel hill that led to a dirt paved clearing and a quaint religious preschool amidst the forest. He worked at the preschool during the school year for an internship class and took me on a drive out there once we graduated. We were gone from any visible world, although nobody was around to experience it at the nocturnal hour of 12 am anyways. There was no true concept of time whenever we were nestled in that enclosure of greenery, we were allowed to forget about what tomorrow brought as there are only intertwined branches and fingers alike acknowledged there.  

The hum of his engine cut with the jerk of his key, and we were left in the congregation of crickets singing in tandem with the metronomic rustle of leaves. We never usually talked on the way to the preschool since we found solace in the silence with every swaying bend of the asphalt. Due to our preferred meditations, starting a conversation post drive was awkward and typically began with the proclamation of a spontaneous thought.   

 “There are turtles over there. Would you like to see them?” He abruptly whispered and pointed just beyond the sparse layer of saplings illuminated by his dimmed headlights. 

The question was startling considering the fact we’d sat in the car there plenty of times together and he’d never mentioned anything about the existence of turtles in the area.  

“Why have you never told me there were turtles here?” I asked in an exasperated breath.  

“You didn’t answer my question,” he bluntly replied.  

“Yes, I would like to see them,” I admitted.  

He climbed out of the driver’s seat and strode his way over to the passenger door as I hopped down from the passenger seat.  

“Where am I going?” I continued to pester. 

“Just follow.” He attempted to reassure me with a small laugh.  

I was not assured. “I can’t see,” I countered into the inky void of air in front of me.  

He proceeded to maneuver himself behind me and placed a hand gently between my shoulder blades to guide me forward towards the trees. His cell phone flashlight only reached so far, but within a couple yards it caught on a wooden frame encased in chicken wire.  

“Oh my God there’s turtles here.” I rasped while tugging on His tattered sweatshirt behind me.  

“Like I said,” he quipped back.  

Kneeling down in front of the enclosure, he motioned for me to do the same and our shoulders huddled into each other in order to gain a similar view.  

“That one is Shelly curled up against the divider,” he said and waved his flashlight in the direction of a shell adorned with hexagonal swirls of earthy greens and browns.  

I appreciated her ability to remain so still upon the disruption of her sleep. She lay solitary in her burrow of leaves, unbothered by the two beasts who dared to come observe her while the moon still took hold of the sky. Her shell rested snug against a plank of wood that ran as a divider down the middle of the enclosure. There were splintered scratches along her side of the plank that were shallow and lacked a remarkable length. I assumed it was from brushing up against the wood while shifting around before sleeping. I would soon be given a sadder conclusion. My off-putting hush began to permeate the air around him and he cleared his throat in discomfort. My focus was brought back to his shoulder and sunk further into mine radiating an intimate warmth.  

“Why are they divided?” I questioned sadly.  

“Why are who divided?” he responded.  

“The turtles,” I replied.  

“Male and female,” he answered.  

“Oh,” I murmured.  

I didn’t verbalize it, but I was disappointed by that answer. It was a very logical answer, but I just wished there were a different reason. A reason like one turtle had a murderous vendetta against the other or they were very talented in concocting plans to escape together. Unfortunately, that was not the case, they were simply divided due to their biological affinity of being drawn towards one another.  

We realized after a while that we should leave the two turtles alone as they likely wanted to sleep on their own despite our own insomniac tendencies. The conversation flowed easily for a while, but doomsday still lurked beyond the trees and limited what we were willing to confess.  

My eyes focused on the sunroof and our reflection visible from the light provided by his dashboard. His hair was a riot of straight pale blond stands swept across his forehead and his eyes were zeroed in on my reflection.  

“It’s disappointing there’s no stars tonight. I usually love the view. You can’t even see anything,” I whispered.  

“I can see something,” he whispered back.  

“And what would that be?”  

“Well, I can see my reflection…  And I can see yours next to mine… I suppose it’s a beautiful view even without the stars,” he said.  

I speechlessly had to agree with him. I continued to roam my eyes over his form and watched his pointer finger connect with the tip of my nose, so I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the path he began to trace. The soft pad of his finger gently stroked across my eyelids and every defining feature in its path. My cheekbones, my chin, the creases in my furrowed brows, and the clenched base of my jaw. He caressed around the edges of my lips before resting on the plump center of my bottom lip. The only notable sounds were heavy breaths from both sides of the car when a hot tear streaked down my face that he subtly wiped away. Even as they kept pouring down, his fingers wiped them away, unwilling to let them gather in the hollow of my throat. Shuddering breaths and shoulder tensing sobs overtook me, but I still kept restraint. Never completely allowing myself to break down.  

“I knew this goodbye was going to be hard.” He gravely offered.  

I pathetically whimpered in agreement as the tears spilled thicker and constricted my vocal cords. 

“We’re gonna be alright. I’ll take you out here any night you ask once we’re home again,” he said as if he were pleading with me.  

I still could only tearfully hiccup in response. Hearing him try to diffuse the desperate tone of his voice with huffs of halfhearted laughter left me aching.  

“I’m not gonna be alright, nothing feels alright.” I choked out.  

“That’s perfectly fine,” he responded, and I believed him for the time being.  

I crashed the hardest when he drove me back to my house and parked across the street. My neighborhood was desolate with no lingering signs of life. Streetlights flickering through the haze hovering over the road and cicadas dully droned the tune of the sleepy suburbs. All souls were comfortably asleep and unaware that the world that I knew was dwindling before my eyes. We sat in silence. Not the comfortable kind like when we drove to the preschool. The kind of nauseating silence where you feel in your bones there are blows soon to be taken. Our heads turned towards each other, and we could only watch each other’s faces fall under the crushing weight of realization.  

“I feel like I should give you a hug or something.” I lamely offered.  

“Would you like a hug?” He cautiously asked.  

I only nodded in response and heard the unclicking of his seatbelt. I was promptly enveloped in his arms with an intensely firm hold. There are times I’ve been hugged by family members, but that was the first time I truly felt like I was being held by someone who understood what it meant to hold. We latched onto each other like lifelines, and I felt his fingers attempting to find grip on any part of my back that was able to be grasped. He was always one for seeming cold and lacking vulnerability in any regard. But I felt his warmth and the way it overtook the  

freezing terror that slid through me.  I squeezed as tight as possible as our necks aligned and naturally curved into another. His pulse connected to mine; I could feel it hammering wildly into my own. He was just as scared, behind every levelheaded reply, he was just as terrified. We held onto each other for nearly 5 minutes and only broke when my mom texted to ask why we were dormant outside.  

There was nothing really more to say than goodbye, but I looked at him for a bit longer as it would be a while before I saw the same features again. It was not the time for revealing the feelings buried for months. It was not the time for promising we’d wait for each other. It was not the time to tear open things tightly sealed away. Unveiling the unspoken level of our interactions would not change the 8 hours between Purdue, Indiana and Bradford, Pennsylvania.  He solemnly smiled and did the same scanning over me and our eyes met one last time.  

“Goodnight, Blake,” was all I could bring myself to say. 

“Goodnight, Wells,” was all I needed to hear echoed from him before I opened the passenger door and shut it behind me, punctuating the end of a story that never really got to begin.  

He left a couple hours later in the delicate hours of morning. I sluggishly packed my boxes over the course of a week. Home was only a reminder of what I no longer had that suffocatingly bore down on me. I could only see the roads through the lens of his passenger seat even while I was the one driving. My eyes were blurred over with tears midway through my drives though, so it doesn’t even matter where I was in the car. I shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. He’d driven me everywhere and from that fact was a deeply selfish regret I ever entered his car in the first place in December. Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t see every road with his profile in my peripheral vision. 

I hadn’t realized it was possible to experience that intense grief when he didn’t even die. However, I grieved my naive ideas of what could have been. I grieved the constant that was him who I spent my teenage years wishing for with every birthday candle. I was forced to silently reminisce over old photos he refused to smile for.  Grief stricken and curled up on my childhood bedroom floor, I awaited my own departure he seemingly so easily conquered.  

Arriving in Bradford I began to think of the sleeping turtle and how tight she curled against the scratched border in the middle of the enclosure. I no longer believe she was undisturbed as we watched her sleep, I believe she did not react as it did not change the situation she was placed in. Confined to a box, forced to watch the world she once knew through rusted chicken wire. I do not feel the need to react to any of my surroundings lately, I only watch while nestled behind a group of girls I pretend I know. I am confined to a place I do not call home and barred off from the one who made me reactive. The one who knew which words to say that would ignite a fight in me. There is no longer a spark flowing through my veins as I tuck myself away in a cradle of blankets. I cling to the wall that keeps me close to him. The wall where polaroids are tacked down above my pillow.  

For now, I lie in wait for my flight home when leaves crunch beneath my feet and mothers call from the front door as the smell of pumpkin pie wafts from the threshold. When I can see the boy with a sly grin whose depraved jokes are a piece of what I call home. Only then will I be satisfied when I am given the chance to go back down a road alive with maples and knowing silence. Go back to the turtle and sympathize with her rather than ogle as myself and many others have before. She understands what it is like to feel so isolated that sleeping with your head to a wall is the only thing that resembles comfort in a foreign location.  

Teeth

By Maddie Cincala 

Show me how much you love me 
as your teeth tear into my flesh, 
penetrating skin, tissue, and muscle. 
Bask in my blood as my warmth 
slides down your throat, 
quenching your thirst.  
Tell me you love my taste, 
as your tongue explores my skin; 
feeling the thrum of my quickening pulse  
against your lips, savoring every drop.  
Hold me close to you, heart to heart, 
as you slowly consume me 
body and soul, blood and sweat.  
Let me taste myself on your lips 
and smell my viscera on your breath 
while you whisper the sweetest things to me. 
Tell me I’m yours, that I’m forever a part of you, 
giving me one last kiss before I go; 
a crimson smear that marks me as yours.  
When I begin to fade, I’ll smile up at you, 
bearing ivory soaked in blood as you do the same. 
And as you ease me down gently, you’ll tell me, 
to be known is to be tasted. 

Intraspecies

By Maddie Cincala  

May 16th
9:27 PM
Kimberly Addams made her way to the bathroom, pointed stilettos clacking on the hardwood floor, and then on the polished white tile. She leaned over the sink to examine herself, making sure her makeup looked fine and that her green contacts were aligned to hide her natural brown irises. Perfect. It was almost time to go. She pulled her thick sienna hair into a tight bun, making sure there were no stray curls escaping her grasp before slipping it all under a nylon wig cap. Pins, hairspray, and prayers. Then the wig, a platinum blonde, stark straight. It would be done up in a loose bun, held in place by Kim’s favorite hairpins, two sleek long tines adorned with a gaudy faux emerald on each pommel. More pins, more hairspray, and more prayers. Those seemed to be what was holding her together tonight. Prayers for the wig staying together, prayers that she wouldn’t break an ankle in these uncomfortably high stilettos, and prayers that she wouldn’t fall out of this impossibly low cut, skintight dress. It was a miracle this red tube of fabric could even be called a dress. Despite the complaints, it’s what brought in the men.  

With her look complete, Kim grabbed her purse and started out to her car. 

9:34 PM
Cameron Fuller stepped out of the shower, the last bits of chocolate brown hair dye washing down the drain. She hastily dried off, nearly knocking over the boxes of bleach off of the bathroom sink. She let out an exasperated huff, cursing the close quarters bathroom as she grabbed up the boxes and threw them away. Rather than grabbing her glasses, Cameron opened the medicine cabinet and fished out a box of contacts, putting a pair in. Next came covering the tattoos. Concealer, powder, repeat, covering the more obvious tattoos on her forearms and the one that would poke out along her collarbone. Among some hastily strewn about clothes, she pulled out a plain t-shirt and jeans. The jeans would cover her coveted blade and holster as they lay snugly pressed to her hip for fast and easy access. She topped off the look with worn Doc Martins and a leather jacket, formerly owned by the last person who she brought home.  

With her look complete, Cam started her walk to the club. 

10:38 PM
Cam entered the Midnight Rendezvous night club, embracing the chest-rattling boom of the bass and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Bodies packed the club, some moving and grinding on the dance floor, others intertwining on the plush purple sofas in the lounge. The bar was where Cam was interested in, a goldmine for finding lonely people looking for hookups or just trying to endure the night. The bar was lit by the dazzling display of all the hard liquor, neatly lined up to showcase their product. Two bartenders darted back and forth behind the counter, expertly crafting cocktails like it was second nature. Among the lonely patrons, Cam spotted a delicious splash of red in the corner, polishing off a whiskey sour. She was perfect. The way she was sitting was just asking for the eye of someone like her to come along and grab her up, back slightly arched as she leaned over the bar, accentuating the curve of her ass and threatening to spill her breasts from that teasingly small dress for all to see. Cam just had to have her.  

10:49 PM
Kim sat alone at the bar, polishing off her whiskey sour. She felt eyes on her, but no one was biting just yet. She sighed deeply, playing the part of “lonely miss” very well; she cast forlorn glances over her shoulder, frequently checking her phone for texts and the time. Telltale signs of being stood up. She knew soon enough the temptation of her body would poison the mind of someone here, male or female. It didn’t really matter to her as long as someone ended up taking her home.  Just as she checked her phone once more, her patience paid off. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked in her peripherals as another whiskey sour was slid her way.  

“Don’t tell me you came here alone,” Cam teased, taking the seat next to Kim with a smile.  

Kim put her phone aside and looked Cam up and down. She didn’t look too bad, a little leaner than she usually preferred, but she knew better than to go off of first impressions. 

“That wasn’t the plan… my date stood me up.” She shrugged, resting her chin in her palm, teasing the rim of her new whiskey sour with her finger. “We were supposed to be meeting up for the first time in person tonight.” 

10:51 PM
“Well shit- I may as well kill myself before missing a date with someone like you.” Cam joked, stuffing a hand into her pocket, and finding the GHB tablet she’d brought with her. 

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Kim teased. 

“I’m just saying… you’re one helluva woman. I don’t suppose you hear that all too often though, right?” She laughed, fingering a little tablet between her fingers. Waiting. 

“I do, but sometimes it’s a little more welcome than others.” She grinned, displaying a set of perfectly straight teeth. “I’m Lexi” Kim lied. 

“I’m Max,” Cam lied back, holding her hand out to shake, and while doing so, slipping the tablet from between her fingers into Kim’s drink. 

11:43 PM
It had been almost an hour since Kim and Cam begun chatting. They exchanged lies, fabricating jobs, interests, and personal information. What Kim learned was that Max is heir to a family-run real estate company and studied abroad for two years in Europe. She met her now ex there who turned out to be a little sick in the head; she stole money from Max and nearly got her arrested with false rape accusations. They split soon after the charges were dropped, and Max then went back to the states to take on a more managerial role in the family business. What Kim didn’t know was that there was some truth in the lies; yes, Cam did study abroad, and yes, she did have a crazy ex. Said crazy ex, however, did not leave after the rape allegations. She was dealt with swiftly and accordingly. But Kim didn’t need to know that. As for the family business, that was true too. However, Cam was no longer associated with that after a long-standing bad rep she’d built up over her high school and college years.  

As far as Cam knew, Lexi was in between jobs, currently picking up temp work in the city. She had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and was looking for every excuse to get her mind off things. Lexi’s parents weren’t too keen on finding out their daughter was a lesbian, so going back to live with them wasn’t an option. So, she now lived in a shitty little apartment downtown in a questionable area. Unlike Cam’s lies, Kim’s were completely fabricated. There was no temp work, no long-term romance, no unaccepting parents, and no shitty downtown apartment. All of it added to her pitiable persona she worked very hard to make. Little miss ‘my life is so hard, but I’m too pretty for hardship’ was one of her favorite roles to play. In truth, Kim had no parents to speak of and was raised by an incompetent aunt who never planned on having children. While her actual job was no better than temp work, she was not one to settle for dingy downtown living.  

Together, they created a cherry-picked melody of lies, tailoring each sentence to try and cater to the other’s false interests and values. 

12:02 AM 
This whole time, Kim hadn’t touched her spiked drink. She knew better. And she also knew that she wasn’t about to take this woman back to her apartment. She never brought people back to her place. It was much too risky with those paper-thin walls, and it certainly didn’t help that Cam was easily twice her weight with her height and more muscular build. She was waiting for her to bring it up. They usually did by now; most were more than desperate to fuck her and have their way with her, but this one was just talking about her utterly boring life while she smiled and nodded and pretended to be interested. She started to think she had half the mind to blow her off and try getting another person to take her home. There were plenty of people looking to get laid tonight anyways. But there was something keeping her invested. Something about Cam. The way she shifted in her seat every now and then, and the way her voice seemed unnaturally strained when emphasizing points of her stories. Subtle nuances that a normal person wouldn’t pick up on. Cam was hiding something, and Kim had a feeling she knew what it was. They were in an unspoken standoff, and Kim was determined to come out on top.  

12:03 AM
Cam was running out of lies to tell. She’d used up most of her canned lies and this whole time, Kim hadn’t even touched her drink. Each time Kim tented her fingers over the rim of her glass, she could feel her impatience pulling at her. It felt like Kim was knowingly teasing her. She didn’t want to take her back sober, though. Not because she was worried about being able to overpower her, but because there was something about Kim that felt different than the others. She had this knowing look about her that kept Cam planted in her seat. While most conversations felt like an elementary game of tic-tac-toe, this one felt more like a game of chess. A game Cam intended on winning.  Each word from Kim sounded calculated and carefully selected, as if masking something just beyond the surface.  

“Lexi, you’ve barely touched your drink. It won’t taste any good if the ice is all melted.” she pointed out, pressing Kim on the matter to see if she’d squirm. 

“Oh? Jeez I didn’t even notice!” Kimberly laughed, teasing the rim of the untouched drink once more with her finger. “I guess I just got caught up in your stories from work. It’s so sweet you work with your family you know.” 

“I spent ten bucks on the damned drink. The least you could do was drink it.” Cam muttered, cursing herself. She knew he shouldn’t be pushy with these things, but she wanted to break that seemingly naïve exterior. 

Kim scoffed. “Seriously? You’re the one who bought the drink. I didn’t ask you for shit.” She pushed the drink back over to Cam and in that moment, she could’ve sworn Kim was silently challenging her. Rather than the discomfort or the furrowed brow that came with being pressed into drinking, Kim looked focused. Testing.  

“I was trying to be nice. But I guess I should’ve known better.” She sighed, attention piqued.  

12:05AM
“It’s a dangerous world out there. My caution doesn’t discriminate you know.” Kim grinned, seeing that ever so subtle give in Cam’s façade. It was brief, but it was there, and she drank it all up, reveling in the thought of breaking through it completely. 

“Well, it’s good to know a bombshell of a woman such as yourself has some common sense. Sorry about that. Really- it’s just that money’s a bit tight if I’m being honest. You know how it is.” Cam sighed, seeming to switch gears. But Kim knew better. If Cam really was part of a large family business and had the expense to live abroad, money was most likely not an issue. But she’d humor her. At this point of the night, Cam was probably her best bet anyways. Besides, she liked the rush she got in this little dance the two were beginning to perform. 

12:07 AM
“Tell me about it- I save up for weeks for a nice date and get blown off.” She conceded, wanting to carry out her plan tonight. “Tell you what, why don’t I make it up to you.” She leaned in a little, running her hand up Cam’s arm. “Why don’t you take me to your place? I’ll give you something worth a lot more than ten dollars in drinks,” she whispered in a sultry tone, bringing a slender leg against hers. 

“What the hell. I did say I may as well die before turning someone like you down.” Cam laughed, wanting to raise the stakes. She thought it quite naïve of Kimberly to invite herself to her home. After all, home was where she did her job best.  

“You said you may as well kill yourself, actually.” Kimberly corrected jokingly. “And now that I think about it, I kinda like the sound of someone dying for me.”  

Cam laughed, waving the bartender over to pick up the tab. “You really are something else, Lexi.”  

12:27 AM 
“Why don’t we take my car? It’ll be quicker. Besides, these heels are killing me.” Kim suggested, not very happy when she found out that Cam walked here.  

“Aw come on now, it’s not that far- just a couple blocks. I promise.” Cam grinned, a warm, reassuring grin; one that Kim noticed was thin-veiled and most definitely false.  

“Try walking that in stilettos. Then come talk to me,” she muttered with a scowl. “Seriously, my car’s just up that way.” She pointed up the road to an old Subaru Impreza with a cherry scented pine tree tag hanging from the rearview mirror.  

“But it’s so nice out. We can walk and talk. Unless you wanted this to be a one-night stand sort of situation- no feelings attached. Though, I can’t promise I won’t feel anything after this.” Cam mocked. Kimberly rolled her eyes again, hesitantly giving in. In the moment, the two of them had made the exact same reasoning: a car provides too much evidence.  

“Fine. But don’t expect me to fall head over heels over one walk.” She half joked, starting down the walk with Cam. 

To the average passerby, the two of them looked like any other blossoming couple, chatting away as they walked through lamplight. Their voices echoed down the streets, off storefronts and through the alleyways. Someone watching might have even come to the conclusion that they were truly in love with each other.  

12:39 AM 
“Hold on a moment- I need to take these shoes off.” Kimberly sighed a little over halfway into the walk back. She leaned over and slid off her stilettos with a sigh of relief.  

“You want me to hold them?” Cam asked, offering her hand. 

“No need- I’d like to think I’m fairly capable of carrying my own shoes,” she said. 

Cam playfully raised her hands up in defense. “Just trying to be nice- I promise it’s not much farther.” She hummed, continuing on down the empty sidewalk.  

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask-” Kim started, following Cam, being more cautious with her steps now, and trying not to step on anything sharp or questionable along the sidewalk. “Do you work out?” 

Cam laughed a bit. “I do. Not religiously, but I work out when I can. Why?” she grinned.  

“Just wondering- usually I go for people with a little more meat on their bones.” She baited, figuring that she could find some way to use Cam. Beggars couldn’t be choosers after all. She was given Cam and intended to use every part of her just like the rest.  

“You’re saying you’re into dad bods?” Cam laughed.  

“More or less. I like a good balance of fat and muscle. A golden ratio you know?” Kim smiled, letting a hint of cynicism flash in her eyes. 

12:56 AM
The two arrived at Cameron’s place in good spirits. The house was modest, but enough: a single-story building with crumbling siding and faded blue shutters. The door matched the shutters in color with a cheap plaster frame hugging it. A few plants resided in brown, brittle heaps in old terracotta pots lining the porch steps and a heavily used doormat lay at their feet. However, instead of the traditional “WELCOME”, it read more like “WE—-ME”, the brown turf-like material worn down by years of foot traffic.  

“Nice “we me” mat.” Kim teased. “You get a lot of guests?”  

Cam laughed weakly, seeking out her house key from the small keyring. “No actually. It’s just left over from previous renters, I guess. Landlord isn’t too keen on updates.” she mumbled, gesturing to the house next door as she located the house key and slotted it into the door. 

“At least you don’t need to share walls with anyone.”  

“It’s tolerable. I try and keep it nice.” She shoulder-checked the door to get it open and cussed under her breath as a small shower of splinters rained down on her as it cracked open. “Voila!” she hummed, making a grand gesture to the inside as she stepped aside to let Kim in. 

The inside of the house was much nicer than the outside. While it had some structural wear and tear, the furniture was relatively new and well kept. Everything seemed to be in its place, almost to a compulsive level. Shelves were dusted, floors were scrubbed clean, and the furniture and décor were arranged with scrutinizing precision. Despite the noticeable effort put into the house, remnants of tenants past still made themselves present in old dents, chips in the paint, and embedded mold and mildew stains in the creases and corners.  

Cam led Kim through the open living and dining area and down the hall to her room; a small room with bare walls and a window that was nailed shut. The bed was positioned in the far-left corner with one side purposely pressed to the wall, which if asked, Cam would explain how it was the most space efficient. The dresser and desk were smushed together against the opposite wall, and the door to the bathroom was along the same wall as the bed. The door did not lock. In fact, none of the doors except the front door locked. And any other exits, were nailed shut. 

“This is cute- why don’t you get yourself ready while I use the bathroom?” Kim suggested, giving Cam a wink over her shoulder as she made her way to the bathroom.  

“Wait!” Cam grasped her by the arm roughly, remembering the boxes of hair dye in the bathroom and temporarily forgetting her charming persona. 

“That bathroom is kinda backed up. I’m waiting for repairs. There’s one down the hall to the right you can use.” She put on a grin, sliding that charming mask back on. 

 12:59 AM
Kim had been scanning her surroundings this whole time and despite never meeting someone quite like Cam before, she knew better than to let her guard down. Ever. She followed Cam’s instructions to the bathroom, shutting herself into a small half bath with yellowing tile and the remnants of mildew stains in the corners. One look around confirmed her suspicions: even the smallest windows had been nailed shut. She pulled out her hairpins, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. She twisted each of the gaudy emerald pommels, releasing the plunger to the hollowed chamber drilled into each pin and then promptly redid her messy bun.  

1:01 AM
While Kim primped and prepped, Cam was analyzing her own next steps. She deduced that Kim couldn’t possibly be hiding a weapon in what little clothes she was wearing. If it was a game she was playing, Cam had confidence that she was sure to win. All she had to do was let it play out. 

1:04 AM 
“Are you just gonna sit there? Or are we gonna have some real fun?” Kim smiled from the doorway, knowing now that Cam wasn’t just looking to gawk.  Cam had sorely underestimated her, and it showed through those subtle nuances of unbridled cockiness: the way she carried herself, her tone, even going so far as to leave Kim unattended in the bathroom told her that she had thought she already won.  

“Depends- you’re the one making it up to me remember?” Cam teased, pulling off her jacket and tossing it aside, sitting back on the bed. “Unless you’re not used to being the one in charge- I get it.” She sat back, waiting to see what Kim was planning. 

“I was just assuming you were the ‘taking charge’ type of woman is all. Though you really shouldn’t underestimate me. It may not look like it, but I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.” She purred, sauntering over to the edge of the bed right between Cam’s legs. She brought a hand up to Cam’s chest, easing her onto her back as she crawled up, straddling her hips.  

Cam’s hands explored Kim’s soft thighs, sliding under the tight fabric of the dress as it rode up her straddling hips. There was no denying Kim was hot, but she didn’t intend on letting that distract her from the task at hand.  

Kim continued, letting the dress ride up, teasing black lace lingerie that hugged her curves and left little more to the imagination. She pressed her full chest into Cam’s, slipping her own hand under her shirt and teasing the silhouette of her shallow breast, drawing deeper breaths from her. Her other hand skimmed down Cam’s other side, drifting dangerously close to her concealed holster where the knife hid.  

Cam grabbed Kim’s wrist tight, drawing a hitched gasp from her glossy lips, face lighting up in an intoxicating twist of ecstasy and a knowing exhilaration.  

“What’s the rush Lexi? I know you’re keen on exploring me. So why not do it right?” Cam whispered, pulling Kim down closer, teasing her lips over hers as she brought that pesky wandering hand elsewhere.  

“If that’s what you’d like,” Kim smiled, accepting the unspoken challenge. She pulled her hand from Cam’s grasp, plunging it up under her shirt and working it off, tossing it aside. She dipped down, teasing her tongue along the contour of Cam’s collarbone, drawing out an aroused breath from her. Kim smiled to herself as the unmistakable taste of concealer and setting powder graced her tongue, alluding to something hidden. She knew the texture of human skin too well to conclude that Cam was just hiding a blemish. The powdery texture had covered most of her collarbone. She was hiding a tattoo. Clever bitch.  

“It’s such a shame you felt the need to hide your tattoos, Max.” she whispered, pressing her hips into Cam’s, and nipping at her neck, practically feeling the blood rushing under the tender skin.  

“Mistakes were made. What can I say?” Cam replied, keeping her composure as her hand danced up Kim’s back. She teased the zipper of her dress, threatening to shed that single layer keeping her in a state of decency.  

 “What are we if not our mistakes?” said Kim, pulling Cam into a deep kiss.  

In an explosion of what could be mistaken as passion, the dance between the two reached its climax. Hands groped and scratched and savored the fruits of supple skin as clothes were pulled and thrown aside. Deep breaths intertwined with hitched moans and all at once there was everything. Pleasure before pain. The precipice of the moment was executed in a deadly synchronicity. With a swift motion, Kim pulled away one of her hairpins, setting synthetic platinum locks free of their updo. Another swift motion from Cam and a sharpened blade was being unleashed from its snug leather harness. Kim sunk the pin deep into Cam’s neck, tearing through the carotid artery with a deadly accuracy. The push of its plunger forced its full capacity of air into the artery, causing an immediate air embolism through her bloodstream. Cam’s blade found its way deep into the flesh of Kim’s shoulder, severing skin, connective tissue, fat, and the axillary artery in a brilliant spurt of crimson blood. Hands groped and scratched clawed supple skin, now slick with blood. Choked breaths intertwined with strained cries and all at once there was nothing. All that was left were two corpses intertwined on the blood-soaked sheets, bloodied weapons lying in loosened grips. Kim’s wig hung loosely from its cap in sticky clumps, revealing a sliver of her natural sienna hair. Streaks of Cam’s tattoos breached the skin where the foundation was soaked in blood and scratched away in the struggle. It was a morbidly beautiful picture for the headlining news article; Spat Between Killers Ends in a Draw.  

https://2025.bailysbeads.org/intraspecies/

Welcome to Heart Stompers

Baily’s Beads presents our feature Heart Stompers, not to be confused with a well-known, popular book series and Netflix TV show.

In this feature, it is to be expected to find love, some heartbreak and maybe even some possible deaths.

But hey, we can assure you it’s all in the name of love! In these pieces we will be exploring the darker parts of love that are not limited to unrequited love found in “Turtles” and even some who would kill in the name of passion in the piece “Intraspecies.” Also, if you look in the piece “My Favorite Shirt” you will find the powerful aspect of self-love that can always prevail.

We hope that you enjoy our Heart Stompers feature! 

Madyson Trama 

https://2025.bailysbeads.org/welcome-to-heart-stompers/