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Gripping the man’s jaw, I twist his neck.
The wife startles, eyes scrape over her husband. While he falls, I apprehend the gun from the back of his waistband. The wife’s roundhouse kick lifts, narrowly missing my chest. I place two bullets into her skull.
38
LUXURY
For the last couple of days, I awaited Victor’s call. Unmotivated by everyday life, I lay in my bed, coiled in depression. Unable to move.
My world crashed to a halt, having revolved around Dr. Victor Finch since I first set eyes on him. In school, I never saw myself waiting around for a man. Hell, I never dreamed I’d get the bouquet of roses. Or passionate kisses, which elicited goose pimples across my flesh. The fire in his eyes as his gaze fell over my skin—the magnetic touch. I never thought myself worthy of these things.
Man, his touch incinerates my body from the inside out. Hands that have remedied every hurt I ever felt,Victor’s hands,are now a precursor of pain.
Death.
And I’d rather not believe it. I beg my eyes to shut, to cease their pursuit of him.
Seeing’s believing, right? And if I don’t see this, it didn’t friggen happen.
Oh, Luxxie, he is so in your head. I’m crazy.
Pinned to the spot, cum slithers down the inside of my thigh. An eeriecrackof a snapped neck resounds.
Victor draws a gun.Where the fuck did that gun come from?He had a hard-on at the club, nothing else. A tiny gasp exits my mouth as the female’s body pulsates. Bullets pump into her skull.
One.
Two.
Unnerving precision.
They were just jogging. Now, they’re both dead.
No, I stand corrected. A third man, a transient, falls into the shopping cart he was pushing. Anotherone . . . two. I realize my bones quiver each time Victor pulls the trigger.
My heart lurches into my throat. I’m staring into the barrel of Victor’s gun. My eyes bite shut involuntarily. Shit, I couldn’t will myself to blink mere moments ago. Another blast rips through the air. And another. The friggen double tap.
In the dark, I place trembling hands over my chest.Luxury, you’re alive, run stupid!
Vision restored; cool air inundates my lungs.
God, my body shakes like a leaf. Gradually, I turn to see a fourth person. A construction worker has fallen to the ground, chest painted a dark, crimson color. At the sight of his dead body, I spin around, tripping over the body of Victor’s second victim. My knees mash into the soft chest of the innocent female jogger.
My palms press into a pool of sticky, hot blood on either side of her head. Suddenly, I’m bathed in hot, viscous gore.Red. Momma. My hands drip just as they had the day I found my momma. The sight and smell choke me deep down. Suffocating from the inside out, my hands fall over my throat, massaging the tender column as I hack.
“Ohhhh, God! Ohhhh . . . my God!”Jesus, help me.Kicking out of my heels and rubbing my soaked palms onto my dress, I climb to my feet. Anxiety threatens to drown me. My heart races and my breathing becomes shallow. My head is dizzy. Taking deep breaths, I try to fight it. I must.
“Help!” I run toward the covered bridge. It’s not my most brilliant idea, but my feet track in that direction.
I peer through the gloomy conduit, glimpsing a guy on the opposite side. Extending my legs fully, I charge over the cobble-stoned pathway.
“Help,” I croak.
Click. Click.
The sound of Victor’s gun filches my air. At the last moment, I veer toward the sloped area trailing to the left of the bridge. My bare feet skid on wet grass, and I grasp at the turf. Tiny blades stick to my blood-stained fingers.God, please save me!Somehow, I must get away from Dr. Finch.
39
