I can't help it. The next night, as soon as twilight slips into her gown of dancing colours, I'm out the door – showered, shaved, and salivating – walking as quickly as humanly possible towards the Dust.

I'm angry. I'm excited. I'm hoping I'll find Zillah because grown-ass men do not cry. I don't know what's come over me but I need him. I miss him. I feel like a part of me is lost and I want it the fuck back.

When I push the door of the Stardust open, my heart is hammering. It's dark and quiet. When I look around I see there's no one here. No one but Jer standing in front of one of the posters with a drink in his hand.

Where is Zillah? My mind is howling.

When Jeremiah feels the chill that's followed me in, he turns. "Elio. Hello." He makes his way to the bar and grabs a tea towel before slipping behind the counter. "You're here early." He tilts his chin towards the old Molson Canadian Light clock above his head which states that I shouldn't be here for another few hours.

Oh, shut up you watery wanna-be beer. Where is Zillah? I want to scream! Inside me something does.

"I just opened five minutes ago and no one ever comes before ten."

I don't care what time people usually come. Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Dark. Beloved?

"Can I getcha something?"

I stand there like I've been struck dumb. When he asks again, I shake my head and speak into the melody-less room. "There's still no music."

Jer shrugs. "Repairman's coming a week from Tuesday. You can't find folks who know how to fix these ol' thing nowadays."

"Shitdamnshit." I am crestfallen.

I guess he thinks it's about the dang box because he gives me a half-smile. "I know drinking is always better with tunes but I never pegged you for such a music fan. I could sing if you want music that bad."

I feel like I'm melting. I'm turning into goo. I'm going to be a puddle of nothing. "No. That's ok."

He rubs the counter with the towel and gives me a curt nod. "Ok then. Drink?"

I don't know what to do so I nod. "Yah."

"Whiskey," we say in unison.

As he's getting my order, I head to the jukebox and place my hands on it. The BROKEN sign is still there but there's now a wad of pink gum stuck on a corner.

"I could sing if you want," a voice comes from behind me.

I turn and am face to face with them.

"Zillah!" I'm giddy. I want to leap into their lap and laugh hysterically.

They look at me with a gaze I let seep into my soul and burn like acid. "Miss me any?"

I don't want to sound like a needy puppy but I'm sure I'm salivating by my master's return. "Damn straight I did. Where did you take off to last night?"

Zillah is cool as a cucumber. They give me a delicate shrug and then take my hand. "I'm here now. I've got a great night planned and it does not include this bar. I'm taking you away from this shitty place with its Ma Ingalls decor."

"I'm all yours." I'm laughing as I'm being led away,

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremiah holding up my order. He looks at me as if I've grown a second head.

"Elio?" the barkeeper calls me twice more but I'm not turning back. "Elio. Please. You should stay," there's concern in his voice but I pay no heed.

"Where are we going?" I ask Zillah as they hold the door open for me.

"The world is ours for the taking, little bird. We're going to play. Maybe break a few things."

Hand in hand we run towards the Limelight District. Back to where we were yesterday. Tonight, I recognize it all.

"Where did you go last night when you left?" I ask as I'm being led into a narrow ally and pinned up against the wall.

"Away," muffled words. Nonchalant. As if I were asking them about the weather or anything of mediocre interest. Zillah lifts my arms over my head. I feel brick scraping knuckles. Their lips are on my collarbone and their tongue is creating a path that I will gladly take.

I become goo. "I know that," I whisper. "I mean, did you go to another place? Ho –" I'm bitten and I yelp. "Home?"

Zillah lets go of my hands and cups my butt. "Home." They pull me closer while pushing themselves onto me simultaneously and griiind in that lazy, slow way that nearly makes me pop a vein.

I want to ask if they were alone but I don't think I'd handle it were they to tell me no.

There's a sweet darkness above us. We're under a veil. There's nothing but the sound of Zillah kissing my throat and me making noises Lux would call pornographic.

For a good few moments, I could have sworn we were alone. Then I sense someone nearing so I look over Zillah's shoulder. I'm ready to slaughter the motherfucker ruining this moment. There's a silvery jingle-jangle of bangles bumping against each other and it's getting closer. It's a familiar sound. One that resides on some shelf in my memory library.

Zillah pulls away from me. The spot they were adoring ices over with the chill that replaces their lips.

"Y'all want some comp'ny?" The same prostitute from last night is standing a few feet away. A cig is dangling from her flesh-less lips. Her long white gown hangs off her skinny frame like it's on the wrong hanger. There's a garland of roses on her head. "Ah'm on mah hunnymoon but ah seem to 'ave lost the groom."

Fuck me sideways! Not tonight, Satan!

I grab my dark beloved and skitter as far away from her as I can. But they digs their heals into the snow to stop me.

"He's not lost," Zillah taunts, "He took one look at your ugly face and ran off."

Jeahsus! This is not the time to stop and chit-chat with zombie-whore!

Zillah picks up a handful of snow, balls it tight, then hurls it at her. When the snowball smacks her bony cheek, my silvery beauty begins to laugh.

Snow crumbles down the hooker's face. Her cigarette is soaked and dangles like limp spaghetti. Zillah is still laughing but I'm just hoping to get away from this madness.

The prostitute looks at us pitifully. The cigarette tumbles down. "Y'all killed me dead." A strap falls off her shoulder and she doesn't bother to fix it. I watch as her bottom lip begins to tremble like she's about to cry.

"Ugly!" Zillah's got another snowball and POW it whacks her on the head, knocking the garland off. The roses fall with a wet plop onto the ground and are swallowed up by the snow.

The hooker sniffles. Tears fall down her face. Big, fat, beautiful tears. The harder Zillah laughs the harder she cries until she's nothing but a sobbing mess and my dark beloved is hurling snowball after snowball at her.

-+-
"Let's go," I hiss and grab their arm to pull them away. I feel no pity.

We run out of the alley and into the street. "Do you love me, Elio?" Zillah shouts into the sky.

Yes, yes, yes, a million times, yes. I don't know why, but I do. (Stop questioning. I'm not mad, you know). "You're insane," I reply and pull them into a playground.

The swing set and graffiti-covered slide are all that is left. Whatever other toys used to be here have long since been torn down.

Zillah marches to a swing and hops on. Their hands are around the chains. Their gaze is on me and their eyes are an inferno. "Do you love me, Elio? Do you?" Zillah pumps. Higher and higher they go.

"I love you," I admit. Do you have a knife? I'll cut out my heart and give it to you.

The rickety swing sings.

"Prove it."

I pick up a broken twig and write I LUV U in the snow. Then I make crooked hearts all around the words.

"I want more proof."

"More? OK. I'll give you more. You should have no doubts." Lifting my left hand, I bite until I draw blood. I dip my index into the crimson and my finger becomes my pen. Upon the metallic slide, I begin to write words of absolute desire. I fill the length of the metal until there is no more room. I write until I've nearly run out of blood and I'm ready to pass out.

Zillah is leaning over my shoulder. Their hands rest on my hips. "Perhaps you do love me," they say after they have read my ode to them.

I nod and lick my wound shut.

"Love is insanity, you know."

"I kn –"

There are hands are in my pockets. Inching. Inching. Closer. I see God. There's a barrier of thin cloth separating flesh from flesh. What they are doing threatens to bring me to my knees.

"Do you want more?"

I nod because I have forgotten how to speak.

"Do you want me to touch you? Lay you down and strip you to your soul?"

Saliva pools in my mouth. My tongue is a foreign creature. Somehow I manage to utter, "You can do anything you want to me."

Their voice is sweet torment. "I already am."

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. Zillah pulls their hands out and I wail. "Don't stop."

Behind me they are chuckling.

I am weak.

"Tomorrow. Write me another poem, yes?"

But I don't get a chance to reply. Before I'm able to turn around and beg Zillah to stay, they have already left.  

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