The cells are empty. Or mostly empty. There's a Leo. The Lion in one cell. You wouldn't think he's a lion. Pasty skin and lanky limbs. White thighs save lives; they obviously haven't met him. But I know him.

 

We pass him and come upon another. A Scorpio. She has brown skin, curly, matted hair. She's been here the longest. The Scorpion looks up briefly. Recognition flashes in her eyes.

 

They toss me in the cell across from her and slam it shut. It echoes throughout the empty hall. When I’m sure the guard is gone, I smile at the Scorpion.

 

“So the Ram threw you in here too.”

 

Nodding, I purse my lips. “I kinda saw it coming though.”

 

“Lucky. I wish I saw it coming. She led me in here one day and shoved me in a cell.” She leans against the wall and props her arms on her knees.

 

“How long have you been in here?” I ask, crossing my legs at the front of the bars.

 

“What month is it?”

 

“August.”

 

“I’ve been like this since March. I think she forgot about me, but can’t let go. Or she’s just trying to erase me.” She pauses for a while. I’m not sure what to say so I stay silent. Her eyes refocus. “What landed you in here?”

 

“We had a nasty fight.”

 

The Scorpion nods. “Yeah I heard about that.” She sees my confusion. “The Lion told me. He got here a few months ago.”

 

#

​

The Scorpion and I talk for a few weeks. We catch up from when we last saw each other—the beach. We get pretty close despite the cells keeping us apart. I actually forget about the Ram until she comes to visit one day.

 

She ignores me. Doesn’t even glance in my direction. It throbs a little, but I quickly get over it.

 

She opens up the Scorpion’s cell and steps inside.

 

They talk in hushed tones, never once looking at me but I know that they’re talking about me. And I realize just how cruel the Ram is despite her wanting to look like the victim. She knows each of us better than I thought. She wants to lead the Scorpion on and me, the Crab, she knows how to get under my shell.

 

She leaves the Scorpion, locking the cell behind her.

 

When she’s gone, the Scorpion looks at me. She’s disappointed, sad. She avoids my eyes when she says, “I keep trying to find out why, after four years, she would betray me like that.” She picks at her cuticles.

 

“Yeah I was wondering where you had gone but she never gave me a straight answer.”

​

#

​

In the coming weeks the Ram visits often; sometimes days in a row. The Scorpion tells me that they talk about the same stuff, over and over again. They talk about the Sea-Goat and how ‘amazing’ he is.

 

The Sea-Goat is the reason why we had that fight.

 

The Scorpion comes to her own senses.

 

Self-reflection and talking with the Scorpion, makes me realize that I no longer feel for the Ram. It’s not that I hate her, I just don’t care.

 

Steps echo throughout the empty cellar. The Ram comes into view. I pick at my nails to avoid looking at her. “You look nice,” she says.

 

Some force causes me to look up. The Ram smiles at me. I look at my nails and slide the dirt out from under them.

 

The Scorpion’s cells door opens and their murmurs begin. Their talk is short though. I think the Scorpion is the one to have ended it.

 

The Ram leaves with another compliment sent my way. I ignore it.

 

The Scorpion stands against the bars. “I know what she’s trying to do. I just didn’t want to believe it.” She leans her forehead against the bars. She doesn’t look so dirty. Her hair is clean. She looks good. Healthy.

 

I lean against my bars, ready to reply, when the door squeals open. We stare at the open crack, dumbfounded. How long has it been unlocked?

 

“Go,” the Scorpion says.

 

“But what about you?”

 

“I’ll get out. It’ll just take time,” she replies somberly.

 

“I’ll keep in touch.”

 

The Scorpion nods, smiles even. On my way out I pass the cell the Lion should be in but he’s gone. I think he’s been gone for a while.

 

I make a promise to myself that I’ll visit the Scorpion. And I do. Sometimes the Ram knows I’m visiting, sometimes she doesn’t. I don’t care. I’m just hanging out with my new best friend.

 

Every time I see her she looks better and better. We barely mention the Ram. She is non-existent in our lives. We have better things to talk about.

 

But as the days and months pass, her cell looks no closer to opening. But the bars do get rusty. And the Scorpion’s radiance and confidence grows.

 

About a year after she had been thrown in the cell, I visit her. I tell her of the day. But she’s more excited about it being close to a year of our friendship.

 

The Ram’s footsteps echo. They get closer. And closer.

 

I step back as the Ram nears the Scorpion’s cell.

 

The Scorpion grips one bar of her cell, and, staring right at the Ram, opens the cell door.

 

The Ram stumbles back, stung at last by the Scorpion’s stinger.

 

And we are both, finally, free.