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About the time I reached the tenth floor, I was wishing to God I had worked on my upper arms more. They were killing me. Did I already mention it was a shitty, old-timey fire escape? It was only a series of bars. To go up, you did pull-ups; to go down, you used it like a ladder. Apparently, a modern fire escape with actual stairs was too good for us tenants. I was basically scaling the side of my building.
My upper body muscles burned and my thighs and calves were twitching like those of a hard-run horse. I couldn’t rest my feet because the rungs were too slippery. So, it was either climb through the pain or return to my ex-boyfriend who was intent on raping me to death.
Choices, choices.
I finally reached my destination after what felt like climbing Everest.
“Please don’t be locked,” I prayed. I’m not sure I’d have had the strength to break it, even if my energy reserves weren’t wiped out.
I pushed on the sash, and the window slid open. “Yes, thank you lord Jesus!” I praised a deity I didn't necessarily have faith in. Funny how deities exist only when you need them.
I slammed the window shut behind me, locked it, and slid down the wall. I exhaled a huge sigh of relief, and let my body seep onto the fl
oor.
It felt like a good five minutes before I felt rejuventated enough to take in my new surroundings. When I did, I gasped.
Vic was standing before me, half naked, with only a sheet draped around his waist. He was a god: chiseled abs and sweat glistening on his olive skin. Clearly, I had interrupted something.
I looked away, my cheeks flushed. My arms felt like lead pipes, otherwise I would have lifted my hands and buried my face in them.
Vic knelt down, bringing his face parallel to mine. He grabbed my chin with a firm but gentle hand, and turned my face toward him. Unlike Dean, his touch was soft. “What is going on?” Vic asked.
I sighed. How could I possibly explain all of this? Oh, you know, just your typical day. I was playing bingo with the girls when my stalker showed up to rape and murder me. I pulled a SpiderMan on his ass, though, so it’s all good.
I opened my mouth to try to explain it without any smartassery, but the female voice I heard wasn’t my own.
“What the hell?” An annoyed woman yelled from atop the stairs. “Who is she?”
Wearing nothing but a robe, the woman looked down at me with utter disdain. Shit. It was Mia Farrow, otherwise known as the woman from the elevator a few weeks ago. Under any other circumstance, I would have returned her distain with gusto, but right now I was too beat to do anything save roll my eyes. Having a psycho ex come after you would do that, I suppose. I felt like J Lo in Enough, before she got all cool and kick-boxy.
“Go back to bed,” Vic said, his tone firm. His eyes never strayed from mine. They looked like they had the morning he stayed with me, before everything got all fucked up.
I’ve missed Vic.
“Yeah, right,” Mia Farrow replied.
Anger flickered across Vic’s eyes, but only for a moment. He blinked, and, once again, his eyes shone the soft, hypnotic, dark light that pierced my soul.
I shook my head and tried to shake Vic out. I didn’t want to go down this road again. I wished like hell I had someplace else safe to go, but I didn’t. Instinctually, I knew I would be safe with Vic. Not just safe, but that he could handle himself if faced with Dean. As I wrestled with my thoughts, I felt two hands gently tugging, coaxing me to stand.
I swayed a bit on my feet, my muscles still trembling from the exertion of the fire escape climb. Vic steadied me by my elbows; we were less than an arm’s length apart. He smelled clean, dark, earthy, and, most importantly, safe. I wanted to bury my face into his chest, but my self-restraint was intact enough to not do it.
I don’t know how long we stood like that, me inhaling him and him just letting me, but eventually he spoke.
“You should sit down while I get into something more comfortable.”
More comfortable than just a sheet? I couldn’t help but smile to myself, hoping he didn’t see. Fat chance, he saw everything. He gently let go of my elbows and steered me toward the couch. I walked over like a zombie and plopped down.
“I need a drink,” I mumbled, mostly to myself.
I was in shock and not thinking clearly, I stared at the window wondering if Dean was going to crawl through the window like Samara climbed through the TV in The Ring. I imagined his eye pits boring into mine, his freakish grimace pulled taunt across his face, scuttling across the floor toward me, oozing malevolent intent. I shuddered violently and tore my eyes away from the window.
Mia Farrow traipsed down the stairs. She eyed me like I was a stubborn fungus, and then disappeared out the door.
“I definitely need a drink.” I said, placing my head in my hands.
“What were you saying about a drink?” Vic reappeared with two drinks in hand.
