Not A Chance In Hell
Anjelica opened her eyes. The sound of water rushing filled her ears. She imagined it sounded like the rustling of
wings. She could see her feet, bare somehow, toes pointed to the sky, a shadowy bruise on her instep. She could
breathe. She could remember. The boys had sliced open her red swimsuit, cutting it open the way you would a
lobster to get at the meat inside. Two of them held her arms, pinned her down while the other...
They were boys from school. Boys she never talked to. Anglo boys who all looked the same to her. To them, she was a
small, brown nothing.
Small, brown, nothing. It was chant, a taunt they hurled at her since childhood. It was part of who she was. Little
Angie: Small, brown, nothing. If she was mousy, that would be something.
Anjelica curled sideways. Someone was shaking her. Someone was talking from far away.
The boys cut her swimsuit away. One of them – the one with braces and a peppering of freckles – ran the flat of the
blade down her body to her navel. He was saying something, but all she could think was that she didn’t want his
mouth on her. His thin lips like thin strips of liver stretched over the metal brackets in his mouth. She understood
they expected her to lie still while they...
“Helli!”
Shaking again. Anjelica rolled her head to gaze into a pair of amber eyes. Nighna. Nighna had her by the shoulders.
Nighna was stronger than she looked.
Parts of things came into focus. She saw her feet again, and beyond them the tangles of writhing jungle gone dark.
It was not as exquisite as she remembered.
“How bad is it? Can you walk?” Nighna asked.
This confused Anjelica. Maybe Nighna hadn’t seen what happened. Hadn’t she noticed that the dagger was in Helli’s
hand? That she’d gotten the better of those boys?
Anjelica ventured a careful glance down her body. She was not clad in her swimsuit; however, her light cotton T-
shirt had been shredded to bloody rags.
“Holy cats,” she whispered. She probed her chest with the fingertips of both hands. They came away bloody. She
stared in detached wonderment at the bright red blood on her palm.
“It’s not my blood,” she said. “It’s the boys. The boys’ blood.”
Little Angie. Small, brown nothing…
“Helli,” Nighna said, her voice calm, steady. “Where is Oz?”
Anjelica felt a trill of panic coursed through her. “Oz?”
Nighna hauled Anjelica forward. She jostled her shoulders roughly when Anjelica’s head lolled bonelessly backward.
“I need to know,” Nighna began.
“I killed the boys,” Anjelica admitted. “I killed them. N-not Oz. Not him.”
Nighna leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “There are no boys, Anjelica,” she said.
“But they... they’re the reason I’m here,” Anjelica said. She tucked her chin and sucked her lip to stifle a sob.
…if she was mousy, that would be something. Little Angie, small…
Nighna shook her again. “Listen to me, Anjelica. I need to know about Oz. I need to know. Did he do this?”
Nighna placed her palm close to the gaping hole on Anjelica’s chest. Anjelica could feel the warmth of fever in the
wound, could feel the proximity of Nighna’s hand like a shimmer of warning. But she felt no pain and knew from
experience that it meant the shroud of shock had settled over her.
Slowly, Nighna’s concerns congealed around Anjelica’s disjointed thoughts. Anjelica dragged her eyes to meet
Nighna’s again.
Nighna nodded, grimly.
“Anjelica,” she said. “Dear, we need to know. Can you tell me?”
Anjelica strained to remember. She heard screams. They meshed with the ones in her memory, blending with the
wind into a bitter howl that she felt like a pressure behind her eyeballs. What she recalled was how she had managed
to wrest free from the boys who’d toyed with her. She remembered the looks on their faces as she’d kicked the
knife from Brace Face’s hand.
And how it felt to turn that blade on them. She’d swelled with gladness at the flicker of fear in their eyes.
Not nothing now, she’d said. Not nothing now.
Tears brimmed and burned in her eyes. She’d been glad to kill them. It was the first thing in her life she had ever
done really well.
“It’s not what he saw,” Anjelica said, shaking her head. “He didn’t see.”
Nighna rubbed her forehead. She tipped Anjelica’s face to meet hers again. “Helli, did Oz bite you?”
Anjelica made a tired, dismissive sound. “What? No.”
She couldn’t really see the wound. It was high on her shoulder, near the bend of her neck. It was a deep, bloody,
mangled mess that ached and burned, but distantly. Had it been much lower, he’d have snapped her collarbone like a
twig.
Nighna lowered her eyes. Her head bobbed a single nod of understanding.
“I don’t know,” Anjelica mumbled. Her head floated, paddling toward the deep end of unconsciousness.
Nighna pulled Anjelica to her uncooperative feet. “I know,” she said. Nighna got an arm around her to keep her
steady. “Let’s get out of here.”
The pain was incredible but distant like a scream y
Anjelica opened her eyes. The sound of water rushing filled her ears. She imagined it sounded like the rustling of
wings. She could see her feet, bare somehow, toes pointed to the sky, a shadowy bruise on her instep. She could
breathe. She could remember. The boys had sliced open her red swimsuit, cutting it open the way you would a
lobster to get at the meat inside. Two of them held her arms, pinned her down while the other...
They were boys from school. Boys she never talked to. Anglo boys who all looked the same to her. To them, she was a
small, brown nothing.
Small, brown, nothing. It was chant, a taunt they hurled at her since childhood. It was part of who she was. Little
Angie: Small, brown, nothing. If she was mousy, that would be something.
Anjelica curled sideways. Someone was shaking her. Someone was talking from far away.
The boys cut her swimsuit away. One of them – the one with braces and a peppering of freckles – ran the flat of the
blade down her body to her navel. He was saying something, but all she could think was that she didn’t want his
mouth on her. His thin lips like thin strips of liver stretched over the metal brackets in his mouth. She understood
they expected her to lie still while they...
“Helli!”
Shaking again. Anjelica rolled her head to gaze into a pair of amber eyes. Nighna. Nighna had her by the shoulders.
Nighna was stronger than she looked.
Parts of things came into focus. She saw her feet again, and beyond them the tangles of writhing jungle gone dark.
It was not as exquisite as she remembered.
“How bad is it? Can you walk?” Nighna asked.
This confused Anjelica. Maybe Nighna hadn’t seen what happened. Hadn’t she noticed that the dagger was in Helli’s
hand? That she’d gotten the better of those boys?
Anjelica ventured a careful glance down her body. She was not clad in her swimsuit; however, her light cotton T-
shirt had been shredded to bloody rags.
“Holy cats,” she whispered. She probed her chest with the fingertips of both hands. They came away bloody. She
stared in detached wonderment at the bright red blood on her palm.
“It’s not my blood,” she said. “It’s the boys. The boys’ blood.”
Little Angie. Small, brown nothing…
“Helli,” Nighna said, her voice calm, steady. “Where is Oz?”
Anjelica felt a trill of panic coursed through her. “Oz?”
Nighna hauled Anjelica forward. She jostled her shoulders roughly when Anjelica’s head lolled bonelessly backward.
“I need to know,” Nighna began.
“I killed the boys,” Anjelica admitted. “I killed them. N-not Oz. Not him.”
Nighna leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “There are no boys, Anjelica,” she said.
“But they... they’re the reason I’m here,” Anjelica said. She tucked her chin and sucked her lip to stifle a sob.
…if she was mousy, that would be something. Little Angie, small…
Nighna shook her again. “Listen to me, Anjelica. I need to know about Oz. I need to know. Did he do this?”
Nighna placed her palm close to the gaping hole on Anjelica’s chest. Anjelica could feel the warmth of fever in the
wound, could feel the proximity of Nighna’s hand like a shimmer of warning. But she felt no pain and knew from
experience that it meant the shroud of shock had settled over her.
Slowly, Nighna’s concerns congealed around Anjelica’s disjointed thoughts. Anjelica dragged her eyes to meet
Nighna’s again.
Nighna nodded, grimly.
“Anjelica,” she said. “Dear, we need to know. Can you tell me?”
Anjelica strained to remember. She heard screams. They meshed with the ones in her memory, blending with the
wind into a bitter howl that she felt like a pressure behind her eyeballs. What she recalled was how she had managed
to wrest free from the boys who’d toyed with her. She remembered the looks on their faces as she’d kicked the
knife from Brace Face’s hand.
And how it felt to turn that blade on them. She’d swelled with gladness at the flicker of fear in their eyes.
Not nothing now, she’d said. Not nothing now.
Tears brimmed and burned in her eyes. She’d been glad to kill them. It was the first thing in her life she had ever
done really well.
“It’s not what he saw,” Anjelica said, shaking her head. “He didn’t see.”
Nighna rubbed her forehead. She tipped Anjelica’s face to meet hers again. “Helli, did Oz bite you?”
Anjelica made a tired, dismissive sound. “What? No.”
She couldn’t really see the wound. It was high on her shoulder, near the bend of her neck. It was a deep, bloody,
mangled mess that ached and burned, but distantly. Had it been much lower, he’d have snapped her collarbone like a
twig.
Nighna lowered her eyes. Her head bobbed a single nod of understanding.
“I don’t know,” Anjelica mumbled. Her head floated, paddling toward the deep end of unconsciousness.
Nighna pulled Anjelica to her uncooperative feet. “I know,” she said. Nighna got an arm around her to keep her
steady. “Let’s get out of here.”
The pain was incredible but distant like a scream y