AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It just goes to show you how fucking overwhelmed I am, with all the emotions and thoughts swirling around me, that I don’t even argue about him keeping Nic-the-Dick in attendance. Shit, maybe whatever anger and violence he brings out of me will help me fight off the fatigue the psychic sensory overload always seems to bring.
As I focus on my breathing, the air starts to thin out, the smothering blanket of dozens of auras no longer threatening to knock me out. And I know from fucking experience that I can, and will, pass the fuck out if it gets to be too much. That’s why I won’t ever go to another concert or mall. I learned my lesson.
When my head is clear enough once more, I straighten my back and click my cane closed, wringing my hands around it to center myself. “Can someone fucking clue me in to what’s going on?”
“Iz-”
“Nuh uh! Don’t Izzy me, Alan. You’re hiding something. Tell me!”
A muttering from my left draws my attention to the angry aura that I know belongs to Nic, but this time there’s a lining of suspicion and distrust to it. “What the fuck is going on?”
I expect the asshole to be the first to blurt out what’s going on, to see me taken down a peg or two from not being able to figure it out myself, but instead, the answer comes from my right. From the aura that usually beams with joy and mischief, but instead seems somber and altogether dull.
“It seems you have a secret admirer, Wicked.” Kai’s usual teasing tone is laden with regret and trepidation, his obvious attempt at lightening the mood falling as flat as a fucked up souffle.
“What do you mean by admirer?” Silence.
“Alan?” I can hear the crickets.
“Nic?” Seriously, was that the sound of a mouse farting a mile away?
“Kai?”
When even Kai refuses to answer, I defer to the one man who never seems to pull punches. Following his ever-calming and unaffected aura, I turn to Ezra. “Brick?”
“It’s the woman from the bowling alley. The one who attacked you. She was tortured and drowned with beer. The killer left a note.” He states matter-of-factly, like each truth uncovered didn’t just slap me on their way out. That’s what I asked for though, isn’t it?
My hands shake as I let his words sink in, Gizmo and Snitch climbing up to rest on my shoulders, their little hands rubbing at my cheeks and hair. “What’s the note say?”
“It’s your name.”
“Well, that’s not good,” I mumble.
Fucking what? That’s the understatement of the century! This is just what I needed, a creepy fucking murderous stalker. As if I didn’t already have enough to deal with.
I find it a little bit surprising that I’m far more annoyed than I am scared. What’s my line of fucking thinking there?
Okay, so he obviously doesn’t want to hurt me. So, I’m not in danger. That’s good.
The woman who kicked my ass at the bowling alley seems to have gotten hers though. Boo-fucking-hoo. Wah. What a loss. Whatever.
But, this could cause problems professionally. What if I get fired as a consultant? It might be far too much trouble to keep me on now that I have a vengeful stalker going after those who wrong me. I was already teetering on the threshold of the door out, because not everyone thinks I’m worth it in the department. Poor Alan is the one constantly fighting for me to stay. And his job is about to get twenty times harder now. Fuck.
Seriously though, who the fuck does this guy think he is? I don’t need a damn bodyguard! I’m not as helpless as I appear to be and I don’t need anybody else fighting my damn battles for me. Like, what? Sure, I got my ass kicked. But the dusty cunt went to jail. Even if she was temporarily out on bail, she would still have to battle it in court and probably face extended time in the future.
In short, it was more than taken care of and it’s not like I was ever going to see her again.
Did I wish she would spend the rest of her life stepping on Legos barefoot? Yes. Am I mourning her death? Yeah, no. Rest in peace, twat. But did I want her to die for what she did to me? Hell no.
In a world where fairness is just fantasy, we have to find our own balance. The punishment should fit the crime.
But this? The dude just tried to shove a coke can through a straw. It doesn’t fit.
“Wicked, are you even listening?” Alan’s frustrated voice pulls me from my internal monologue and I rub the back of my neck sheepishly.
“Sorry, no.”
“Can you please do your thing so I can call back the rest of the personnel?”
