I Know What Love Is by Whitney Bianca

form a plan. She lived close to The Mermaid, I knew that much. I figured she'd been walking home when I snatched her. I could feel her. She was close. I darted a look at the dark hallway in the back, where I'd backed her up against the wall. I could almost feel her breath on my face and her lips on mine. I stood, almost like a zombie, and walked toward the back hallway.
    The darkness was calling my name, in her voice. I could hear her whisper in my ear. As I ran my hand over the wood panelling on the wall, I could hear her moan. I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, telling myself that I was going to find her. I was going to find her and make her suffer for the shit she was putting me through.
    Then I was going to make her love me.
    The ladies' bathroom was empty when I walked in and flooded with light from the single window. I went to the sink, my eyes searching. I didn't know what I was looking for until I found it. A long black hair, curled on the tile floor below. It was hers and to me, it was proof. Proof that what we had was real. It had happened.
    I wasn't ready to give up.
    I don't think I'll ever be ready to give it up.
    Two cops were standing by the bar when I returned to my drink. The Mexican one glanced my way, then turned his gaze back to the blonde bartender. I sat on my stool, eyes on my drink, but my ears open. My gut told me that the cops had something to do with Daisy, somehow.
    “ So when was the last time you saw Joan?”
    “ Jo? A few hours ago,” the blond said.
    “ Her mother said she couldn't get ahold of her all weekend. Called in a missing person's report.”
    “ She left her purse here, right under the counter. Probably had her phone in it,” the blond continued. “She said she'd been with a friend all weekend.”
    “ You got a name for this friend?” one of the cops asked. I shifted my eyes to watch the exchange, not able to resist. The big one with the crewcut leaned closer to the bar, his eyes on the blond's tits.
    “ I don't know. She didn't mention that,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It was a guy, though.”
    “ Well that's all she wrote,” Crewcut scoffed and glanced back at his Mexican partner. The Mexican shot a look my way and I didn't bother looking to drop my eyes.
    “ She was real banged up, though,” the blonde said, snapping her gum. “Looked like she'd been beat up. Said she was in a bike accident.” A shiver of recognition went through me. They were talking about my girl, I realized. I tried not to let the shock show on my face, but I don't know how successful I was.
    “ Hmm,” the Mexican cop murmured, his eyes still on me.
    “ Are you going to go over and check up on her?” Blondie asked, her voice lower, like she didn't want me to hear.
    “ We already stopped by her place and she wasn't there,” the Mexican said. “If you hear from her again, you let us know.” He pulled his eyes off of me and slid his card across the bar. The blond took it and nodded.
    “ Don't be shy, now,” Crewcut said, still leering. I turned away and tossed back my whiskey, trying to process the new information. My eyes caught my own in the huge mirror behind the bar. I looked haunted. I could see the rage under my skin, like a dark sickness. I watched the cops exit behind me, the bright sunlight slicing through the room when they opened the door. As it closed behind them, I pulled out my wallet and tossed a few bills on the oak bar.
    It was then that I noticed the pictures.
    Polaroids were taped along the bottom of the mirror. There were pictures of the blonde bartender with the name 'Chels' written on it in black marker. There were pictures of other bartenders, a few I recognized. I stood and leaned closer.
    “ Stupid cops,” the blonde murmured. Then she stepped around the bar and went to the door, watching the cops as they left. “They don't give a shit about her.”
    I looked from picture to picture, my eyes scouring every face. I knew she would be