Page 104 of Requiem

Empty?

Please, Jesus, don’t tell me the one time he finally decides to listen to me and get rid of the damn knife is the one time I need it!

“Looking for that big bad knife you had in there?”

I jump at the sound of Jeremy’s voice. He’s leaning in the doorway watching me.

“Hey, great hiding place for the key, too. Behind the mirror in the bathroom. I never would have thought to look there. Oh, yeah, except, I did,” he sneers and steps over the threshold and into the office with me before he continues.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t have been through every square inch of this place before I brought you here? Not to mention your apartment. I had a lot of fun poking around your lingerie drawer by the way. Oh! And I like the little pink lacy number you’ve acquired since we were dating. I’ll bet Matty Boy got lucky when you found it in bottom of your suitcase!”

Oh. My. God.

How could I not have seen it? Of course! It was him all along! He got into the house right before David was born, too. But after that, Matthew installed alarms and cameras and reinforced doors. He thought we would be safer here than anyplace else. Apparently he thought wrong. We both did.

“And, you can forget about the knives in the kitchen and that God awful marble statue in the living room, too. I managed to disengage your alarm system and the home phone line, so you can forget about whatever other little tricks you think you have up your sleeve,” he says, watching me watching him.

I come around to the front of the desk. We’re about twenty feet apart in this large room, but he’s blocking the only way out. I don’t have to look around me to know that there’s nowhere left to go. He comes closer, but I stand my ground. This is my home.

“I’ll be paying David a visit soon, you know,” he informs me.

I don’t respond, just glare at him.

“Oh, he’s going to get to know me real well, Jules.”

I take a deep breath and try to stop my body from convulsing with the trembling that is taking hold of it. I muster every bit of power I have and channel it into my tone as I address him.

“Jeremy Corrigan, I want you to hear me when I tell you that you will never touch my child. Because, if you do, I will kill you with my own bare hands. And, if you happen to get the better of me, if you get your way and I’m dead, then you had better start praying for salvation, Jeremy, because I will be there. Every bad thing that happens to you, that will be me. I will make your life a living hell from beyond the grave. I didn’t believe in things like that until I had David. Now I know. Not even death will sever the relationship I have with my son,” I hiss at him from across the room.

He gives me a condescending smile. “Don’t you mean our son, Julia?” he croons, crossing over the threshold and moving slowly toward me.

I shake my head stubbornly. “No. He is not our son, Jeremy. He’s mine. Mine and Matthew’s,” I insist, taking an involuntary step backwards to maintain the distance between us.

“Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

Again, that galling smile. What I wouldn’t give to smack it off of his smug face. I feel my fingers twitching with the possibility of it as he pushes me further into the corner.

“You seem to be running out of floor,” he observes.

I recognize the line from the first time we made love in my apartment.

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom then?” he suggests.

“No,” I snap.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He clearly thinks he’s misheard me.

“No.”

“No?”

I glare at him now.

“You heard me. I said ‘No.’ No, I do not want to have sex with you. I do not give my consent. I want you to be crystal clear on this point, Jeremy. If you touch me, it will be by force. It’ll be rape.”

“Seriously?” he marvels with an incredulous smile. “Have you met me, Jules?” he laughs. “I mean, what the hell makes you think I care whether or not you consent?”

My expression doesn’t change. My eyes never leave his.