"God is looking for people to use, and if you can get usable, he will wear you out. The most dangerous prayer you can pray is this: 'Use me.'"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas..." The song goes on and on and fucking on.

"What day is it, Mia?" I ask my assistant.

"Um, December tenth, sir." She answers, looking at her Apple Watch.

"Exactly," I grumble, stepping out of the elevator. "so why are they already playing Christmas music?"

She laughs quietly. "I don't know, sir, but it's been going on since November first. I think they should wait until the week of."

"I like the way you think, but what did I tell you about calling me 'sir?'"

She shakes her head, making a mental note. "Forgive me but it's been a while. Need I remind you, you tried to go all Mike Tyson on Beck?"

I laugh out loud, walking towards my office. "We don't mention that name."

"What name?"

I look over my shoulder at Mia and smile. "Exactly."

She laughs again and follows me inside of my office.

Daddy's home.

"So, this is what's on the agenda today— Chris? You okay there?" She snaps in my face.

I pretend to cry. "I just need a minute."

She rolls her dark brown eyes and closes her iPad. "I'll give you a minute. Or thirty."

I drop my hands by my sides and roam around the office.

Ah, the couch where I fucked Morgan.

And the desk, also where I fucked Morgan. I did work, there, too but one of those things is slightly more important than the other.

Good times. Good times. . .

Knock. Knock.

"Well if it isn't Dumb and Dumber." I get excited when I see Phil and Frank.

"Fuck me in the ass, it is you!" Frank banters.

He hugs my body and slaps me on the back. "I missed you, man. Hey, no hard feelings about me working with Russ now, right?"

I put my hand up. "None at all. I'm happy he's out of my hair."

"You got that premarital glow, you asswipe, why didn't you call and tell me?" Phil wrestles me and loses.

I have him in a headlock and tap Frank in to finish my light work.

"Shit," I exhale, "I missed you two fuckers. What's, uh, been going on since I left?"

They both look at each other then back at me. "Nothing, man. It hasn't been the same without you."

"Honestly, though, I had no idea you were coming back. I was just having my flat screen measured for this wall." Frank humors me.

I kick back in the office chair and take it all in.

"You know, as happy as I am to be working again, being here doesn't feel right." I admit, staring past them.

"What do you mean?" Asks Frank.

I shrug my shoulders and peer out at the view of the city that's widely preparing for the big storm.

"Having this office back is nice and all, but, I want my own firm." I tell the guys.

When silence falls, I spin in the chair to see their reactions.

"You're serious, too?" Frank inquires.

I nod and Phil comes around to tousle my hair. "Dude, t-that's fucking awesome! When? Where?"

"I don't know the details yet. This is just a dream, but I'm tired of working for other people."

Franks slowly nods his head, eyes spaced out. "I heard that, brotha. Hey, whatever you do, we got you."

"Don't tell anyone, alright? Tim said I'm like a son to him and I don't want to piss him off."

Phil nods his head, understanding.

"Tim said that? I'm sorry for laughing, but I had lunch with Tim and Russ, and he said you embarrassed this firm and that you're done in this city." Franks tells me.

"What? No." I'm taken aback and refuse to believe him.

Then I start to laugh because, come on, it's Frank. He's always playing. "Ah, you almost had me there."

"No, seriously, he said he likes you and all, but I was sitting right there, dude; he said if it were anyone else he'd have their ass on a stick."

All I can do is laugh until I see Frank and Phil exchange a genuine look of concern.

"I'm sorry, man." Frank says, standing from my desk. "But hey, we're super hyped you're back!"

I seal my lips and push my fingers to them.

"I think I heard someone calling us, Frank. We should head out. Chris, let's go out later? Maybe? No? Okay." Phil babbles, pushing Frank out of my sight.

The door closes with a soft 'click' and I lose it, going into a blind fit of rage, kicking and punching the air.

"FUCK!" I roar.

Stupid. I facepalm myself. How could I be so fucking stupid and naive?

I kick the bottom drawer of my desk and it pops open, revealing a piece of paper attached to what looks like a ripped check.

Breathing heavily through my nose, I snatch the note and check and read what it says:

If you want the other half, meet me here
And don't tell anyone

I flip the check to get the address and put it into my phone.

I look at the amount the check is made for. It's about as much as Tim promised me, so that checks out.
This must be some twisted game to him, hiring me just to make me suffer. Well, I'm not playing.

I'm going to get the check, and I'm quitting on the spot. I don't need this.

When I blow past Mia, Phil, and Frank, they ask me where I'm going?

"Where's Tim?" I bark at them, making Mia jump out of her skin.

"I-I don't know," Frank stammers, holding his trembling hands up, "no one knows, we haven't heard from him in days."

Mia grabs my arm. "Sir, please don't do whatever it is you're about to do."

"Give me his address," I demand. "Now."

~

It's quite the the ride out of the city to Tim's mansion but I don't mind.

The estate is grand, I had to wait at a gate to be let in but when no one answered as I tried to ring up, I just hopped the gate and walked the lane.

I have no weapons except my fists. I hope that's enough, if it comes to it.

The further I get, the more the nerves wrack in my body.

I'm not scared of Tim or whatever security he may have, I just don't know what I'm walking in to.

All I want is my money, then I'll be out of his hair.  Nothing else needs to be said.

I reach the front door and knock first. No answer.

Well, I didn't come all this way for nothing, I think to myself, walking around the mansion.

There are multiple entrances, each of them locked, until I reach an old basement cellar door.

Seeing as though it was left open, I brace myself to go inside.

I drop into the basement and use my phone's flashlight to see.

Nothing to see here. I keep moving throughout the lower level of the house until I find an elevator.

I get off on the main floor and make my rounds.

Making my presence known, so it doesn't look too awfully like I'm sneaking, I shout, "Tim, it's me, Chris. I just want to talk."

"I saw your cars outside, so don't try to play me, Tim. Just, come out, alright?" I continue, moving stealthily through the foyer.

I gulp. "I just want my money, then you can fire me. I'll leave Port Ember then you can hire your precious Beck back, if that's what this is about."

My heart is racing, thumping so hard in my chest that I swear it's louder than my footsteps, and about to give me away.

I cautiously stalk down the first hallway and push every door open. No luck.

Finally, at the very end of the corridor, a room with double doors.

"Tim?" I call out his name one final time.

I tap my knuckles against the door twice before barging inside.

What I see, will stay with me forever.

~

"—And what else did you see?" The officer asks me.

I brush the provided blanket off of my shoulders and hop off of the ambulance.

"I told you: I came here looking for him to collect a check because my co-workers said they haven't seen him in days. That's all I wanted was my check. When I got here, I saw all of his cars in the driveway but the doors were locked so I got worried. The basement bulkhead was open, that's how I got in. I searched everywhere and then that's when I found him... hanging there." I tell my story to the cops.

The two men exchange a plain look and the black officer puts his notepad away.

"We're just trying to get all of the facts. I'm sorry you had to walk in on that, Mr.Vaughn." He says to me.

I rub my shoulders for warmth, trying not to freeze under the snowfall.

"His story checks out." A woman walks up to the men.

They tip their hats to her as she walks off.

"What time is it, can I go now? My fiancés probably worried sick." I tell the policemen.

When my phone rings in my pocket, I look at them coldly and say, "That's her now."

Officer Jones grabs his belt and inhales, taking a look around. "Yeah, you're good to go." He grants.

His partner, Officer Tyson wishes me luck before trailing Jones.

I hurry to my car and start it, cranking up the heat.

What I didn't tell the officers, is that I found a note. I pull it out of my pocket and read it again:

Mr.Vaughn, you'll get your money when you meet me at this address...

At the bottom, a hot pink lipstick print.

I divert my attention back to my ringing phone but I've picked up too late.

"SHIT!" I curse, punching my steering wheel.

Feeling defeated, I hang my head.

Hearing a 'ding' text tone, I immediately read the message from the 8561 number that just tried to call me.

"Sabrina!" I gasp.

Of course. It's been her all along. Silly of me to think that hush money would actually keep her away.

As I pull off, everything starts to make sense. She must be the reason I got my job back. Now, she's holding it over my head, probably wanting something in return. Something as in my body. . .

"Come on," I grit my teeth, "pick up, pick up, pick up."

I tremble with anticipation as Morgan let's the phone ring.

She picks up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Morgan! Morgan, baby, listen to me: I need you to pack right now-"

"Why?" The worry is evident in your tone.

"Lock all the doors, close the blinds, and pack a bag for the both of us. I don't know for how long, but make sure you can carry it to your car in one go. I need you to be quick. Make sure there are no spare keys anywhere and get everything out of the safe."

"Chris, tell me what's going on right now. Where are you?" I hear her moving fast in the background, flipping through hangers in the closet.

"Get the dogs and meet me at Yara and Nick's house. That's the only safe place I can think of. I know it's a long drive, but I'll meet you out there, okay? I'm on my way."

"Chris, don't do this to me, tell me where you are?"

I run a red light, trying to make it to the address written on the back of the check.

"I'm on my way to their house. Morgan, move faster, this is serious. I don't know what the fuck is going on, but it's Sabrina. I'm not trying to scare you, I just need you out of the house, like now, Morgan. Right now."

"Stay on the phone with me." She pleads.

I look at my phone and see it's about to die but my final turn is coming up.

"Babe, my phone is about to die—"

"FUCK!" I roar, realizing I've lost her.

The phone dies in my hand and I throw it onto the passenger seat, beating the steering wheel once I park outside of an old warehouse.

My gun isn't even in the glove compartment where I usually kept it. I remember taking it out after a close call with the cops when I got pulled over for speeding. It's in the safe at home.

I don't want to die. I don't have a death wish nor do I think I'm immortal. What I do have, is the urge to end this once and for all. If I walk in here and see Sabrina/Marissa, well, I won't walk out without blood on my hands.

Harassing my fiancé, sexually violating me, and now fucking with my job, my money, my future? I have to do the unthinkable. I only pray for forgiveness.

As I walk towards the broken door with strong vines growing out of it, I think back to a conversation I had with Ms.Dana, Jasmine's mother, shortly after Thanksgiving:

"What's wrong, baby?" She asks me when I walk into the kitchen for a slice of cake while everyone else plays Uno.

I laugh through my nose, taking the knife from her dark hands as she's just cut a piece.

"Does it look like something's wrong?"

"I can feel it. Come on, talk to me."

"Nah, nothing's wrong. Thank you, though." I take a seat on the bar stoop beside her anyway and dig into the red velvet cake.

"You know, I saw you during my prayer, with your eyes open."

"Aheh," I laugh with guilt. "I don't believe in Jesus or any of that."

"You don't have to. It's not just Jesus I was praying to."

I hang my head, realizing I'm stuck having this conversation.

"You can believe in whoever you want," she says, "as long as you believe. Whether you know it or not, there is a higher power that you'll eventually have to answer to. Judgement Day is real. Whether it's volcanic eruptions or blue beams shooting from the sky, is up for debate. What's for certain, is that whatever high power you want to say is real, will confront you with all of your sins."

"Yeah," I pop my lips sarcastically. "and then what? He opens the pearly gates and I get a halo?"

"That depends, what kind of life have you lived?"

I cut my eyes away from her and ponder the thought.

"You don't have to answer that," she says, putting her hand on mine to snap me out of my head. "I want to say a prayer for you, if I may. This isn't about Jesus, or any God, it's a prayer for your soul."

I give her an "okay" with my eyes and she puts her hand on my head, making me bow and shut my eyes.

"Lord, I'm in that place again; On my knees Laying my life out before You. Thank you that on the cross you cried 'It is finished.' You have done it. Forgiveness is complete, I can live forever in Your grace. Forever in Your love." She intones.

"So I ask now for Your forgiveness For the wrongs that I have done, And the things that I have neglected. I ask for Your forgiveness For the people I have hurt along the way, And those who I have failed to love as You love. I ask for Your forgiveness. I receive Your forgiveness And resolve in my heart That with Your strength I determine not to make these errors again. I receive Your forgiveness And by the power of Your Holy Spirit I walk away from everything I know to be wrong And embrace everything I know about You. For the kingdom, the power and the glory Are always and forever Yours. Amen."

"...Amen." I say under my breath as I stalk further inside the old warehouse.

The storm is starting to pick up, the winds and snowfall making the unstable building rock and fall apart.

I avoid getting hit with debris as I step over trash and abandoned equipment to find the middle of this warehouse where I know I'll find Sabrina waiting for me.

An unfriendly crisp puff of air pushes a piece of paper across my shoes.

I bend down to pick up what looks like the other half of my check and stuff it in my sock for safe keeping.

Well, I got what I'm here for, I figure. Seeing as though no one else is, I turn to leave, but—