I couldn’t allow that. I had a job to do, a debt to fulfill. It should’ve been an easy job, but it was proving to be much harder. I got up and paced the room in the dark, back and forth across the rug, trying to make sense of it all. And then something struck me. A single word that whispered ever so quietly through my mind.
I stopped mid-stride, halting with the force of the thought.
Love.
Even as I heard the word, I shook my head, denying it. This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. It was sick and twisted and probably somehow part of G.R.’s trial assignment before making me an official Death Escort.
Besides, I’d never been in love before. I hadn’t even loved my own mother. The day I turned fourteen I walked out of her apartment and never looked back. I couldn’t care less where she was today and she was the only family I had. Sure, I had friends, people that shared the street, guys that I sometimes worked with, but no one I wouldn’t have sold out for the right price. A guy like me didn’t know how to love. He only knew how to survive.
And this girl was making it hard to survive.
On impulse I grabbed up the white pillow off the couch and made my way to her room. I wanted to stomp with determination. I wanted to shout with pride, but I didn’t.
I moved silently, stealthily, and with purpose.
The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and I pushed it lightly, testing to see if it would creak. It didn’t so I pushed it open some more. The room was darkened, but I could still make out the basic shapes in the room, the bed in the center. I crept closer, gripping the pillow close to my chest.
She lay on her side, facing me, and the covers were pulled up under her chin. Her dark hair was a mere shadow against the white of her pillow and her body was completely relaxed into the mattress.
Do it now,part of me whispered. The part that was programmed to do my job.
The pillow twisted in my grip and I knew this was probably the easiest way to do it. All I had to do was reach out, mere inches, and cover her head with my pillow. All I had to do was smother her in her sleep and it would be over. She might not even know what was happening. If she did, it would be very brief and confusing and then she’d be gone.
And with the pillow covering her face, I wouldn’t have to watch her die. I wouldn’t see the panic on her face—the fear. I would completely avoid seeing the light in her eyes go out, or face the realization that I was the one betraying her.
I pulled the pillow away from my body and held it out, lowering it toward her still, sleeping form.
Do it now.
My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I thought the sound would surely wake her and then my secret would be exposed. That she would know what a monster I truly was.
I took a shuddering breath and looked down, ready to complete my act… She looked smaller in sleep, more fragile somehow.
I dropped the pillow. It hit the side of the bed on its way to the floor.
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I do this one thing?
I hunched forward to pick up the pillow and then slowly backed toward the door. I couldn’t do this. Not right now. I would find another way. Tomorrow. Things would seem easier in the daylight.
“Dex?” I heard from the darkness. Her voice was sleepy and low. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” I said, hoarse. “I couldn’t sleep. I was just checking on you.”
“That couch is probably uncomfortable,” she said, her voice still heavy. “The fabric is itchy.”
“No, its fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Does your head hurt?”
My head? Then I remembered the stitches. I’d only got them that morning, but it seemed like days ago. “My head doesn’t hurt.”
I thought that would be the end of the conversation. It wasn’t.
“You could sleep with me.”
I stopped cold in my tracks, wondering if I was hearing things. She couldn’t possibly have offered to share her bed with me.
“Dex? There’s no use in you being uncomfortable. You paid for this room.”
