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“What I think is you need to rest. Stress isn’t good for you.”
“Know what else isn’t good for me? Being kept in the dark!”
He stood from the bed, a frustrated noise filling his throat. “No one is trying to keep you in the dark. But you need time to heal. To process.”
“The nightmare,” I said, hand flying to my mouth again. Leaving it there, I spoke through my fingers. “Is that what I dreamed about?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember?”
Defeat overcame me, and my hand fell into my lap. “I just remember being afraid.”
His face was stony. I knew he was upset, but he worked to give nothing away.
“Do I have enemies?”
He laughed.
I scowled. “How dare you laugh!”
“Someone not liking you is impossible.”
“Hell-ooo?” I called, pointing to my head and my foot. “Obviously not.”
His face turned stormy. “If someone did that to you, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll take care of it.”
A light shiver worked its way down my spine, the cold spreading into my belly.
The conversation was interrupted when my doctor entered the room with my latest imaging and test results. Ben seemed relieved… but I wasn’t.
Good news, I was getting sprung from this place. Getting back to that familiar routine the doctor loved to preach about.
Bad news, I was going out into a world where nothing was familiar and with the very real possibility someone wanted to hurt me. Someone I wouldn’t know, so if they tried again, how would I see them coming?
15
Kruger
Know what I didn’t have on my bingo card for the year? My fake fiancée asking me from her hospital bed if she had enemies.
What was this, a comic book?
Because in what reality would anyone hate this girl? She was fucking perfect. Smart, funny, hard-working, and oozing talent from her fingers. Not to mention she was hella beautiful. I mean sure, she drove a crusty old Mazda and loved horrible slasher films for comfort, but that shit just added to her charm.
I laughed when she asked because it was fucking ridiculous. Deep down, I was horrified and spicier than that ghost pepper hot sauce.
I tried that once. Don’t do it. Unless you really like your bathroom. Jamie would probably eat it. I should get him some.
Anyway, I was pissed. Someone pushed my girl down the steps. No. They didn’t just push her. They fucking tossed her like a rag doll. Her injuries were too severe for anything less. The sight of her sprawled at the bottom of those steps, body twisted and a halo of blood around her head, would be tattooed on my brain for the rest of forever.
FYI, blood does not make a good halo.
It was suggested perhaps she just stumbled and fell. That suggestion was from the idiot cops. And people think I’m the moron. Jess didn’t just trip. I knew it better than my own name. The terror coming through the phone that night was real. Its pungent remnants still rattled around under my skin, stinking everything up. She was being chased. Attacked.
I didn’t see anything. It was what she yelled right before the phone cut out.
