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“Everyone. Who. Touches. Her.Dies,” I seethe. There’s still some life left in him, so I stab the piece of glass further into his throat. “Now fucking die.”
Not wasting another second. I jump on the bed where Billie is. Her soft brown eyes open and close, but she can’t focus on anything. I must be a bloody, blurry monster to her right now.
“Little bee,” I whisper softly. “Wake up, baby.” I know she can’t, that she’s drugged, and it’s impossible for her to fight it. But I need to know she’s at least somewhat okay. I grab her jaw and force her lolling head to face me. “Come on, give me something.”
She opens her mouth, yet only a pained whimper comes out. “Where are you hurting?” I ask. Dread is wrapping around me. My entire being was calm while murdering a man, but I now feel my heart kicking against my chest.
I look down at her naked breasts and notice the redness around her nipples. I put a hand on her right one, caressing it. “Motherfucker,” I growl. A frustration comes over me, knowing that there’s nothing more I can do to him. I can still hear his gurgling noises, and at least it brings me joy that he’s still suffering.
She tries to bring her hand to mine, but her arm falls back against the bed. She mumbles something, but I no longer try to listen to her.
The problem is, Billie wasn’t saved by a hero tonight. She was saved by me—the possessive devil who can’t stand someone other than me touching or hurting her.
And I don’t do gentle. I don’t do hero-saves-the-girl caring and hugging.
No, I want to know if he lied, if he violated her. So, I sit back between her naked legs and spread her thighs apart.
She moans a protest but can hardly move me or even her own body. She’s limp and defenseless as I stare at her beautiful pussy in front of me. I bring my thumbs to her nether lips and spread them apart. There’s nothing. No blood or unusual redness. Nothing that indicates he touched her there. I press my index finger against her entrance, feeling the tightness and the way her body attempts to block me.
It doesn’t feel like anybody has been able to push through, or surely within the short time, there would at least be a stretch for my finger. But everyone is different, and Billie’s body will only letherknow.
It feels like a knife is piercing my abdomen. I will never know the truth. Since she might never remember, or if she does, she could lie to me and never tell me. She could lie to herself. Her mind could protect her along with her body.
We’re both just as helpless. But to keep going and not kill myself with that same broken mirror shard I used on the guy, I need to tell myself that I arrived in time to stop him.
Pulling away from Billie, I search for her clothes to find them discarded on the bed and floor. I put her in her jeans and top, not caring about underwear right now. I simply put those in my back pocket so they’re not found at the scene of the crime.
I pick her up with one arm under her knees and one at her back, her head nestled against my chest. In the cold night, she’s shivering against me and I tighten my hold. She keeps trying to say something but only mumbled words come out.
Once in the car, I blast the heat and turn it all toward her. Her ponytail is a mess, falling to the side of her head. Her eyes keep opening and closing slowly, still conscious. I can see the frustration on her features, the helplessness from being unable to control anything around her, not even her own body or mind.
I drive her to my house. No one’s here anyway. Kay took the girls away from the North Shore now that NSC is after us.
I bring her to my room. There’s still a nasty smell of fire in the entire house. Kay and the girls’ bedroom is where they started it. The fire was contained in that room and my dad’s room, so the rest of the house is still livable even though we got told we shouldn’t reside here. That the foundations could be affected. Where the fuck else would we live?
I undress Billie, undo her hair, and put her in a pair of my boxers and a hoodie. She’s so out of it she has no choice but to let me handle her body completely. I get her into my bed and hold her tightly.
“M….ight,” she mumbles in such a weak voice I have to bring my ear to her lips.
“Say that again, baby,” I tell her.
“My…fight,” she finally manages to say.
Her fight. She’s been drugged and assaulted, but that’s the only thing she thinks about? Her fucking fight?
“Tomorrow’s another day,” I say softly. “Sleep for now.”
Of course, she doesn’t. Because that’s not what usually happens when you’re drugged, and she’s clearly been given a hefty dose. First, her body fights her. She’s sick a few times. Thankfully I succeed in getting her to the bathroom every time. I hold her hair and give her as much water as she can take. I rub her tummy when we get to bed again. And when she starts hallucinating that she can hear someone’s steps in the house, I reassure her that it’s just our boiler making weird noises like it always has.
When she finally falls asleep, it’s six a.m. Her head is on my chest, and one of her legs is around mine. Her arms are wrapped so tightly around my stomach I can barely breathe. I’m still covered in the fucker’s blood, but I don’t move because I can finally hear her breathing settle, and the cutest snore I’ve ever heard in my life is coming out of her mouth. I do something I realize I’ve come to love. I slip a hand in her hair and close my own eyes. Caressing the soft strands over and over again soothes me slightly.
I can’t sleep, though. All I can think about are his hands on her body and that I want to bring him back to life again just to kill him a second time. And that I can’t.
20
BILLIE
Freakout - Gianni Canetti
