Isabeth and Faith stood in the middle of the twelve by fourteen-foot apartment. They were against sitting. Really sitting was against them. They didn't deserve to sit. To sit on the couch Fiona slept for five months. Five months without them knowing she was sleeping on the couch of a man they didn't know. A man that they never heard of because, in all actuality, they knew every person any of them knew. Neither of them had a friend that was outside of their over-privileged trust fund circle. Shame stopped their knees from bending, regret made their feet heavy.

"I saw you girls out the window. You don't see too many Land Rovers on this block." He rifled through the refrigerator. "Beer. Water." He pulled out a bottle of both.

"Driving" Isabeth held up her keys. She was adamant about not being a precautionary tale, something parents told their teens about before going to prom. She was the designated driver. She was always the designator driver only having the dutiful Malachi to switch with if she wanted to taste a drink, although she stopped drinking beer after graduating from the academy.

"Water then." He pulled out another bottle of water. Faith frowned at the non-brand bottle of water. Faith didn't want it. She only drank Voss or Evian but she took it anyway. "I would've been at the funeral but no funds you know how it is." They didn't but Isabeth politely smiled anyhow.

"Well, we're not from around here," Isabeth said. They weren't from anywhere close to there. She was born in Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. Although she was educated in Texas and vacationing in Massachusetts she was a Cali girl at heart.

"Where are you from?" He asked using the Formica countertop to pop the top off his beer.

"Why are you asking?" Faith tried not to touch anything in the decrepit little apartment. Roaches could be lurking anywhere. Behind the black mold that was protruding from a crack in the wall, Faith shielded her nose. Or one could be hiding, right now behind the central air unit rammed in the small prison-like window.

He gulped down his brew, "Just getting to know Fiona's friends. I've known her for—"

Faith groaned. "Five months." She rolled her eyes. Fiona should have never known him and if he brought the duration of their little affiliation she would pull her thumbnail off. "We know. You told us that, that's the only thing you told us." Faith felt like she was being strung along. She was ready to hear whatever little knowledge he had and get out of this shantytown.

"What do you want to know?" Santiago sat the lukewarm bottle on the plastic yellow table as the old fridge kicked on, humming.

"We want to know why Fiona was here?" Isabeth asked twisting open the clear water bottle top.

"Because here is so bad?" Santiago started with a face hard as concrete.

"Did you see the hamster-sized roaches downstairs," Faith pushed her hands deeper in her back pockets. "Or the crying baby behind the paper-thin door, the pee-stained carpet, the hobo on the sidewalk, and the non-girl scout selling her cookies that aren't thin mints on the corner." Faith elaborated.

Santiago guzzled the beer that remained in the bottle staring straight ahead at the chipped white lead-riddled paint on the wall.

"Faith. We get it." Isabeth shot her a reprimanding stare putting her back in her place. It was one thing to feel entitled; it was another thing to tear people down because you are entitled. The later was bad taste, leaving a residue of mock sugar and onions.

"So, its not The Waldorf." He said unsure where the Waldorf was or how it looked on the inside. He just heard about it in a movie, some wealthy couple talking about their stay in New York.

"Hell, its not Holiday Inn." Faith blew.

"Fine." He smacked the bottle on the table. "This place is a crap hole but Fiona wasn't looking for a palace."

"What was she looking for?" Isabeth inquired.

"She was looking for a place where he wasn't." He responded

"She was hiding out." Faith stepped out of Isabeth's shadow, now wanting to hear what he had to say.

"Who is he?" Isabeth asked.

"Don't know." He reached in the fridge for another beer, this one cooler than the first. "Never seen him. First time I meet Fiona she crashed into me on the corner of 135th and Mill."

"So, actually you know nothing." Faith rested her hand under her chin.

"Faith!" Isabeth croaked.

"What! She was hiding out somewhere. We could've figure that out ourselves." She tossed the water on the lumpy, orange sofa held together by duck tape; the couch Fiona slept on. "She wasn't at school or in Evening and fell off the cell-culation."

"So you're Faith." A smile twisted on his face. "I should have known."

She sighed. "I'm the only one with blonde hair. Something else that's self-explanatory."

Santiago walked toward Isabeth wagging his finger, "You're the girl with the funny name, Elibel?"

Faith laughed. "Elibel! Sounds like a dairy cow!" She laughed harder.

"Its Isabeth." Isabeth shoved Faith.

Faith shrugged retorting, "It was funny, Elibel."

"Sorry," Santiago apologized. He blushed raking his hand through his thick hair. "I didn't."

"What's this?" Faith kicked a box sitting under the A/C unit with Hers written in marker.

"It's Fiona's stuff." He lifted the box leaning it over so they could see inside. "All the stuff she brought here."

"Can we have it?" Isabeth asked noticing Fiona's sketchbook jammed on the side. "I mean we'll take it to her parents."

"Saves me a trip." He shrugged. He wasn't going to do anything with it. He hadn't thought that far.

"I have one more question," Isabeth asked reaching for the box.

"Shoot." Santiago placed the box in Isabeth's arms.

Isabeth gripped her fingers tight around the corners of the box, which was surprisingly light for the girl that packed three bags for an overnight trip. "Why would she trust you?"

Santiago dragged his hand down his wide mouth. "I asked her that."

"What did she say?" Isabeth bit her bottom lip and Faith leaned in eagerly anticipating his answer.

Santiago wrapped his arms around his body remembering the day Fiona told him why she let him cover her with a blanket and why she believed him when he told her it will all work out. "She said no need to fear the unknown when you know the devil himself."

"Damn!" Faith cringed; there was that d-word she loathed with contempt.

"Philosophical." Isabeth wanted to write it down in her notebook feeling appeased; she killed her devil.

"No." He disagreed. "That's frightening. I hope you're not trying to find this person."

"That's exactly what we're doing," Isabeth affirmed unfazed by his devil comment.

"I don't want to sound like a parent but I don't think you should be doing that. This person scared Fiona into agoraphobia, she shuttered from shadows and froze from whispers."

"Good thing you're not our parent." Faith strutted to the door; he had nothing else for them.

"Well, don't say you weren't warned." Santiago twirled the bister glass bottle

"We've been through worst." Isabeth shifted the box from her arms to her hip.

"The Asylum." He beckoned. "Fiona told me about it and I think surviving that is kick-ass. I mean I wanted to met these people that spent a night with crazies and lived to tell the tale but this isn't the same." He anxiously kneaded at his temple. "You're fighting an opponent and you don't know who they are or how they look." He took another swig of beer. "That's like searching for a ghost in the dark without a flashlight. You're playing the devil at his own game and he doesn't play for fun."

"Neither do I." Isabeth replied with a belly full of fire.

Is Santiago right? Should Isabeth and Faith be scared?

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