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Out.
I didn’t notice Butcher following me after I told him not to, and I didn’t know what was wrong with me, why a part of me felt like it—I—should be okay with him doing it. It’s like I should be okay with him breaking the law and going around doing predator shit.
But the truth was, when I looked at him, when I felt his gaze on me, remembered how he beat that guy, saved my life, all I could think about was if he wanted to hurt me, he could’ve. If he wanted to do something shady and dangerous, he could’ve by now.
But could I really believe that he was following me to keep me safe? His actions in the alley spoke truth to that, but it didn’t mean I should trust him, right?
I pushed away from the door and tossed my bag on the small armchair to my left. It was stained and old, here when I rented the place. In fact, all the furniture in the apartment had already been here when I moved in. So not only was I paying cheap-ass rent under the table, but the apartment had been furnished.
Even though the furniture and appliances were old as dirt, barely even worked, and had a strange odor to them, it was better than what I had at the trailer.
It was better than a lot of shit I had in this life.
I went into the bathroom and ran the water, letting my hand move underneath the spray, feeling it turn from cold to warm to hot. After plugging up the tub and pouring in some cheap shampoo that was tripling as body wash as well as bubble bath, I removed my shirt and tossed it into the corner of the bathroom.
I looked at myself in the mirror, my bra white and plain, nothing fancy. I had my fingers at the button of my jeans, popped it open, and was about to pull the zipper down, when I heard the sound of a floorboard creaking. The noise of the water filling up the tub drowned out a lot, but not that.
Was it just my nerves—paranoia? Maybe I was on edge because of everything, and so hearing things was normal. But my heart was racing, this sixth sense telling me something wasn’t right.
And dammit, my bag was on the chair in the living room, my gun inside.
I walked backward toward the tub, reaching out to grab the handle and turn the water off. And then I stood there for a moment just listening. The lights were off aside from the one in the bathroom, and I couldn’t see or feel anything. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe it was the neighbor. I felt my shoulders sag and turned around, even though I felt like maybe I wasn’t alone.
It’s in my head. I’m paranoid.
I turned back toward the bathtub, about to turn the water on once more, when I felt a breeze move over the back of my neck. I was just about to turn around when someone grabbed my nape, painfully digging their fingers into my flesh.
My upper body was pushed forward, but I grabbed the edge of the tub, trying to stop them, staring wide-eyed at the half-filled porcelain, the steam from the water moving up toward my face. I cried out, yelled, shouted, but it wasn’t like anyone would help me even if they heard me. People in these parts kept to themselves, even if they heard a gun go off in the next apartment over.
And then my head was submerged in the water, my hands slipping off the sides. The edge of the tub dug into my ribs, right under my breasts. I flailed around, water splashing everywhere, my hair sticking to the side of my face, making the choking, suffocating feeling intensify.
Whoever held me under pulled me back up, their fingers still wrapped tightly around the back of my neck. That hand slid up my head, gripping my hair, tugging me back so my throat was arched and I gasped for breath.
“You stupid fucking bitch.” His voice seethed with venom and rage. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? Did you think you could hide?” Henry chuckled sardonically. “You actually thought you could have an alias like some kind of fucking spy and hide from me?” He laughed again, this one dark and foreboding. He leaned in close and I felt his hot, humid breath move across my cheek. “Girl, I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight.”
I could see him out the corner of my eye, could see the evil smile spread across his face.
“I don’t even care about the money you stole from me.” A moment of silence passed. “Because I’m going to get that ten times over before I’m done with you.” He leaned in and tried to kiss my cheek, but I jerked my head to the side, successfully slamming my skull into his nose. He growled low. “And you know what?” he whispered, thrill and excitement in his voice. “Your junkie bitch of a mother died three days ago, overdosed on some shit she injected into her vein.”
I hadn’t cried yet, but in that moment, even though my mother hadn’t been a good parent or supportive or hell... anything, I felt tears start to form.
“Ah, thatta girl. Give me those tears. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“Fuck. You.”
He grinned and puckered his lips at me right before he used force to push my head back under the water.
I flailed, my shampoo bottle being flung into the bathtub, water continuing to splash all around me. He pulled my head up only for a second, allowing me to catch my breath before he plunged me back into the tub. My head smacked against the side of the porcelain hard enough that for a moment I was shocked, the pain and dizziness assaulting me to where I couldn’t even move.
He pulled my head out, strands of wet hair stuck against my face, obscuring my view. I felt droplets move down my forehead, but then tasted the coppery flavor of blood.
He pulled me back hard enough by my hair that I was flung against the bathroom wall, the back of my skull hitting the drywall. Pain exploded at the base and worked its way through my entire body. It claimed me, threatened to take me under. But I struggled to stay conscious, refusing to go under.
He stood, towering over me, looking down, a smile on his face.
I tried to stand up, but the dizziness and the pain in my head were too intense. He started chuckling then, crouched down on his haunches, and all I wanted to do was move away, that or kick him right in the balls.
“You know,” he said slowly, precisely, as if he wanted me to really understand each word he spoke. “I watched your mother die.” His grin was slow, deliberate, and sadistic. “I probably could’ve saved her. Hell, I could’ve picked up the phone and called an ambulance.” He shook his head slowly, his expression sobering. “But despite what a shitty mother she was, I knew this little piece of information would really eat at you, dig into your very soul.” He was silent for a moment, just staring me in the eyes. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
