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I head straight upstairs as soon as I’m in the door, pausing only to loosen my tie and check myself in the mirror. Since when did I become so vain? Since when did I care what I looked like? But I want to look good for Hellie; I want her to see me as something more than a killer that stole her from her life. I’m excited as I reach her studio door and knock once before opening it.
She’s sitting on a stool in front of a painting. Her legs are crossed and her brush is up in the air. Paint drips from the tip. I watch as she makes a stroke, a quick slashing line of color, blue from top to bottom. I’m transfixed as she turns to me, wearing an oversized sweater, her hair in a messy bun, a smile on her lips. She’s glowing as the sun sets behind her, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is, and how precious, and how easily I could destroy her.
“You’re home,” she says, her voice sounding stronger than it did this morning.
“I’m home,” I agree. “You look better.”
“I feel a lot better.” She lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t even know I needed that.”
“Needed what?”
“My own work. A little time to express myself. It’s like therapy.”
I walk into the room and linger over her shoulder. The canvas is medium-sized and shows a blue sky, fluffy clouds, a cartoonish sun in the corner. A man’s hammering in a fence, a man with huge arms, an oversized snout-like face, curly black hair, simple jeans, and a shirt. I vaguely recognize him.
“That’s Ren,” I say with a laugh.
She beams at me. “You figured it out.”
“My god, what did you do to him?”
“I made him into a dog person.” Her smirk is wicked. “He’s stuck in hell building fences for suburban housewives for all eternity.”
I look closer, and Ren-dog’s face is twisted in an expression of pure horror. “He’d love this.”
“Good. I’ll show him when it’s finished.” She yawns and stretches, but she holds up her hands when I give her a look. “I took breaks. I swear. I even showered.”
I lean down, pretending to sniff her. “Not bad.”
“Hey, get out of here.” She tries to push me away, but I grab her wrists and pull her up.
“You’ve had enough painting time. I don’t need you turning into a zombie again.”
“Easy there,” she says, laughing, as she pretends to struggle. “No, please, let me get back to the paint. I need the paint. It nourishes me. You don’t understand!”
“Oh, god, she’s lost her mind.” I dip down and lift her up over my shoulder. She yelps in shock as I carry her back to her room, her fists pounding against my back the whole way.
“Put me down, you psycho,” she says but she’s laughing and kicking. “Oh my god, you can’t just lift me up like I’m nothing.”
“Can and did.” I dump her on the bed, grinning huge, my heart racing. “There. I saved you from yourself.”
“You do realize I have to make more paintings, right?”
“Yes, but we’ll set you on a schedule and manage things. I’m going to take care of you, little devil girl.”
She’s lying there on the bed, staring up at me, chewing on her lip, and my pulse is going crazy. I stare back, and she looks so small, so vulnerable, and I wonder if I’m fucking this up. I’m putting her to work, forcing her to pay off this debt, and yeah, she’s damn good at it, and I am trying to make this as pleasant as it can be, but she’s still my prisoner. She’s still working for me to right a wrong she didn’t commit in the first place.
If I cared, I’d let her go. I’d find her a place where she can be safe, far away from Frost and Gallo. Somewhere she can work without being disturbed, without having to make forgeries, without having to worry.
Somewhere without me.
I move forward, coming toward her. Aware, in every inch of my body, that I’m a selfish piece of shit. Aware that I’m going to break her, and in the process, I’m going to break myself.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks as I pin her down against the mattress. She’s still smiling, but she’s also licking her lips, and her eyes take on a sharp, needy desire. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me. Not take me whenever you wanted.”
“Consider this my way of destressing you.”
“Interesting. How self-serving.”
