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“You might want to do something about the body. Rigor mortis kicks in after two hours or so, and trust me, disposing of a body after that is not fucking fun.”
If I was trying to shock him with my random facts, it worked. His head snaps in my direction, confusion clear on his features.
“Why would I need to get rid of it? She can rot here with you for all I care,” he says as he bends down and drags the body over to a corner of the room.
He walks back towards me. I’m preparing myself for the worst. When he stops to retrieve his phone out of his pocket, the sinister smile that spreads across his face does not fucking sit well with me.
“Well, looks like I won’t have to get the information out of you after all. My girl has just made contact. She wants to meet me.” He turns the phone around and holds it up so I can see the message and profile photo that is unmistakably Emily.
I thought I was prepared for the worst. I wasn’t. Why the fuck would she do this? Please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t let her be doing this. I start praying right away to a God I don’t even believe in.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bring her by so you can say one last farewell.” He walks out of the room, leaving me alone.
FUCK! I don’t scream out loud. I won’t give him the pleasure of knowing just how fucking much I’m panicking right now. Emily cannot come here. My mind is whirling with every possible scenario to explain that message.
Maybe it was Sam. He would do something like that to locate the fucker, then find me. That has to be it. It can’t be Emily. We do not end like this. I promised her a future. I promised her memories she could tell her grandkids. These are not the sort I want to give her.
* * *
I’ve been sitting herefor what seems like hours. I have no concept of how long it’s been. But when the door opens again, my heart stops and all the breath leaves my lungs.
My worst fucking fear—no, my worst fucking nightmare—has just appeared in front of my eyes.
“No! Fuck no! I’m going to fucking kill you, motherfucker. Get your fucking hands off her!” I scream, the rope around my arms and feet burning into my skin as I struggle against it.
“Well, now, that’s a reaction I like to see. I believe you’ve met my girl—Emily,” the cocksucker says as he roughly tugs on Emily’s hair, pulling her face up high.
She doesn’t let out a sound. She has a blank expression as she stares at me. One side of her face is bruised. This fucker hit her. And I see red.
She mouths the words, “I’m sorry.” She’s sorry? When I find a way to get us the fuck out of this, you bet your ass she’ll be sorry. The lecture I have ready to give her is about keeping what’s mine safe and away from psychopaths. Well, psychopaths who aren’t me anyway.
Then again, if I can get us out of this mess, I think I’ll just hold her tight and never fucking let go. They can pry her body from my cold, dead hands when we’re both old and grey and die in our sleep together Notebook-style.
“I’ve waited a long time for you, Emily. You shouldn’t have made me wait. Trent promised you’d be mine. Now you are.” The detective licks his lips. I want to cut his fucking tongue out of his goddamn head.
“You and I both know Trent was a lying piece of shit,” Emily hisses at him. He backhands her across the face, causing her to fall to the ground. She’s so close to me. I want to reach out and grab her, to pick her up. Tell her that it’s all going to be okay. But it’s not. How the fuck am I meant to get us out of this fucking mess when I can’t get myself out of this chair?
“I’m going to chop your fingers off one at a time, then I’m going to slice right through your fucking wrist, you sadistic fucking bastard,” I seethe at him.
“Words, Joshua, they don’t hurt me.” He smirks.
“Words might not, but this sure as fuck will.” Emily stands up, her own words confident. I’m not the only one who’s shocked at what she’s doing. The fucking detective’s face is priceless. He goes sheet white, staring at her like a stunned mullet.
