“Time Is Running Out"

"I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated..."

Yes, Mia Fey, thought, she had been drowning. Drowning under the pressure, under her family’s expectations, under the high bar of perfection she had set for herself. She’d always been known as, “Mia Fey: Responsible Older Sister,” or, “Mia Fey: Future Master of Kurain.” She’d grown up without Misty-her mother had always insisted that her daughters refer to her as “Misty,” rather than, “Mom,” or “Mother”-and that had left a scar across her heart. She’d had to grow up quickly, not only for herself, but for Maya.

Maya. Mia sighed, even as her sister’s face floated lazily into Mia’s mind. Mia had seen what family rivalry could do to a family-her aunt’s hatred for her mother, specifically-and never wanted that to happen between herself and Maya. It was another reason she’d left Kurain- albeit not a good one.

So, instead of facing up to her fears, conquering her doubts, raising Maya like a dutiful older sister would, and stepping into the shoes of the future Master, Mia had fled. She’d run to Marvin Grossberg, the man who had helped Misty during…That Case. (Even now, all these years later, Mia still couldn’t hold back her anger when “DL-6” was brought up. Her mother…a fraud? No. Never).

It was only there, working with Grossberg, that she’d…met…Him.


"I wanna break this spell
That you've created..."

Mia stopped shuffling the case folders around in her hands and stopped to think about Him. Diego. The cocky, self-assured, egomaniacal, megalomaniac. She’d met him her first day on the job, even before she’d taken That Other Case with him.

She’d been shuffling case folders in her hands-even back then, it was a nervous habit of hers-and trying to look busy, confident, and like she had a clue as to what the hell she was supposed to be doing. She’d been about to give up, get a cup of coffee, maybe run down to the cafeteria and get food, when she’d heard a voice behind her:
“Hello, hello, hello! Who’s this kitten without her claws? Are you new here, beautiful?”

She’d turned to stare at him, tell him off, assert her independence as a strong woman. She had been the future Master, right? No one spoke so crudely to Mia Fey, right?

She’d turned around, intending to tell him, in the most polite way, to go to Hell, when…

"You're something beautiful
A contradiction..."

“…” Mia’s vocabulary had been constantly praised throughout her life. Her writings were known as “splendid,” “brilliant,” and “wonderful.” She had been known as “That Girl Who Writes Well” in law school; she’d always been that suck-up who loved having a Word of the Day.

Yet, Mia’s vocabulary failed her now. There was something…So different about Diego. She’d grown up in Kurain, of course, isolated from the real world and surrounded by women, so her judgment with men wasn’t always perfect, but there was something so…so unlike Mia had ever seen. He was a wonder to behold-yes-but it was more than that. He looked like Mia had always imagined herself to look: Perfectly in control, successful and happy, able to balance his responsibilities with his pastimes.

In short, Diego Armanda seemed to have it all under control. And Mia Fey, who only pretended to have everything under control, fell in love with the man she thought she could see. She fell for Diego’s mask-the mask he wore over his heart, concealing the dark secrets that lay beneath.


"I wanna play the game
I want the friction..."


It had started with simple glances-after weeks of wearing short skirts and low-cut sweaters, Diego had finally seemed to take notice of Mia’s “advances.” She’d looked at him in the courtroom-his stage, another place he could pretend, could act-and wish he would place his sole attention on her. He flirted with her, of course, but every woman-old and young, married and single-could hold the title of “Diego Armanda’s Kitten.”

Weeks had gone by, yes, but it was finally noticed. The hard work she’d put in-for being such a flirt, the guy was pretty damn unresponsive- finally paid off. He’d started to return her glances in the courtroom, first with a wink, then a look with such intensity that he seemed to stare into her soul.

They’d progressed from stolen looks to outright banter and from banter to kisses in the workplace. They’d gone out to dinner-for a defense attorney, Diego seemed to have both impeccable dining habits and an unending supply of money.

He’d swept her off her-previously- nailed-to-the-ground feet, and without asking for anything more than “her sweet company” in return.


"You will be the death of me
You will be the death of me..."


Never had she ever dreamed it would turn out like this.


"Bury it
I won't let you bury it..."

Never had she imagined being told to prepare a funeral service for her boyfriend.


"I won't let you smother it..."

Never had she imagined being told that said boyfriend was having so much difficultly simply breathing.


"I won't let you murder it..."


Never had she imagined being forced to tell people that her boyfriend was “murdered.”


"Our time is running out..."

He’d always told her that the two of them had all the time in the world.


"Our time is running out..."

Never had she doubted him.


"You can't push it underground;
You can't stop it screaming out."

She pushed open the door to his room and sat on the hard, plastic chair reserved for visitors. She placed the lilies in her hand on a plastic vase near his bed.

Mia liked to believe he could smell the lilies, even if the doctor told her he couldn’t sense anything, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t hear anything.

She placed her warm hand on his cold face and let it rest there for a minute, wishing she could give some of her energy, some of her life, to him.

“Hello, Diego.”


"I wanted freedom
Bound and restricted
I tried to give you up
But I'm addicted..."

They’d only had one fight when they’d been together. It had been after the Terry Fawles case, when the two of them had been somberly walking out of the courtroom. She’d been crying then, too, watching helplessly as the tears fell down her face like raindrops.

“Don’t cry, Kitten,” he’d told her, wiping the tears off her face with a handkerchief. “Hell, your next trial can’t get much worse, right?”

He was trying to cheer her up, make her happy, distract her from what had just gone on. Mia Fey, however, was in no mood to be distracted.

“Diego,” she said, a mix of hopelessness and anger in her voice, “did you see that? Did you see what he did? What she made him do?”

“The entire courtroom did, Kitten,” he’d said while opening the doors for her. The two walked out of the building together. Mia noted that it was dark and overcast, which was fitting. She would have been angry if it had been sunny and clear. It would have been as if the weather was mocking Terry’s memory.

“But Kitten…” Here he’d paused, nervous about his next words. “You can’t do anything about it. …It’s over.”

She’d turned to him, stunned. “WHAT?” She’d asked him, the helpless voice gone and the anger taking over. “Of course I’m doing to so something about it! This isn’t over!”

“…Kitten, she did nothing wrong. Nothing legally wrong, anyway. The law can’t touch her; you can’t touch Dahlia Hawthorne, Mia. Not for this case; it’s over.”


"Now that you know I'm trapped sense of elation
You'd never dream of
Breaking this fixation..."

She’d uttered a fiery stream of curse words, then, slapping his face and running into a taxicab. At that instant, Mia Fey wanted nothing to do with Diego Armanda ever again.

She didn’t believe in giving up.

This wasn’t over.


"You will squeeze the life out of me..."


The door to Diego’s hospital room opened again, and Mia was brought back to her reality. She stared at the visitor and felt her voice filling with venom.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

“Now, now, Miss Fey, that isn’t very nice?” The angelic voice of Dahlia Hawthorne sounded like knives piercing through Mia Fey’s soul. “I’m here for the same reason you are, Miss Fey.”

”And that ‘reason’ would be, what, exactly?”

“Well, Miss Fey, Diego and I were very,” she paused, “close.” She giggled. “Or, at least, we used to be.” Dahlia approached the bed and ran her hand over Diego’s arm, tracing a vein lightly. “He was very close to something important to me-a case, to be precise.”

“I know that.” Mia was trying to keep her voice even, but even she, the ever-patient Mia Fey, couldn’t keep the biting edge out completely.

Dahlia, now at the top of Diego’s arm, reached the IV drip that was currently the only machine giving him life. She stared at the IV, a small smile on her face. “What a small thing,” she commented, “this IV. So small, yet so important to our Diego.”

”’Our Diego’?” Mia was going to kill Dahlia, she really was.

“But of course, Miss Fey!” Dahlia looked surprised. “I’m surprised he doesn’t need more things keeping him alive. I heard there was a lot of poison in that coffee.” She giggled again. “Someone in Heaven must really like him.”

“Or hate you.”

Dahlia looked nervous, holding her umbrella a bit tighter than normal. “’Hate me,’ Miss Fey? Why would-“ she smiled “-anyone hate me?”

“You put that poison in his cup, Dahlia. I know it.”

As Mia watched, “Sweet Dahlia” became “Normal Dahlia,” and it was “Normal Dahlia” now who gave Mia a haunting, piercing gaze. “Then why am I not locked up, Mia Fey? Why have I not been charged with the attempted murder of Diego Armada?”

Dahlia looked at the IV without waiting for a response. “Attempted murder,” she murmured to herself, reaching for the IV.

“Don’t you dare.”

Dahlia turned around and stared at Mia, who had finally gotten out of her plastic chair to stare at Dahlia. The two women stood there, silent, the anger in the room growing at epic proportions.

"Our time is running out..."

Dahlia broke the silence by smiling her sweet, innocent, smile. “Time is running out, Miss Fey,” she told Mia. “I’ve heard that much poison…Well, the side-effects will surely be life-damaging, if not fatal.”


"Our time is running out
You can't push it underground"

“Never, Dahlia Hawthorne.” Mia had dropped her casual attitude; the voice she used now was her “caustic, biting voice”-the voice she only used in emergencies. “There’s a reason he didn’t die, Dahlia Hawthorne.

He’ll be back.

We’ll get you, Dahlia Hawthorne.”

"You can't stop it screaming out"

There was a silence after this, a silence only broken by the noises Dahlia’s umbrella made as it brushed against Diego’s bed.

“Well, then,” Dahlia said, a slight smirk upon her face, “I guess I’d better watch out now, hmm? Now that I have the ‘Diego & Mia’ team after me. The team that has one member in the hospital, ready to die, and the other member looking at me, ready to kill?”

"How did it come to this...?"

Dahlia laughed, an evil, haunting laugh.

”Come and get me, Mia Fey. I’d like to see you try.”


And with that, Dahlia pushed the door to Diego’s door open and left, umbrella adjusted perfectly on her shoulder, her sickly sweet smile plastered across her face.

Mia Fey watched her go, anger pouring out of every pore of her body. Putting a hand on Diego’s cold shoulder for support, Mia Fey spoke to the empty room that still held the spirit of Dahlia Hawthorne.

“We’ll both get you for all your atrocities, all your murder victims, every single thing you’ve ever done in your life.

We’ll be there, together, at your conviction, laughing when your “Guilty” sentence is pronounced.

This isn’t over, Dahlia Hawthorne.

And it won’t be until you’re dead.”