Pulling myself from the floor, my still ringing phone makes me think it’s important, but I don’t know who or why. I have no friends and I haven’t spoken to my parents since I ran.
When I reach my room, his smell lingers in the air. I pick up one of his shirts that he had left there the week prior. His odor is still encased inside the fibers of the cotton. I slip it over my body, and it falls to my knees. I add a pair of black lace panties then pick up my phone to I see I have two missed calls from 81 and two from Timberly. I listen to the messages. 81 is wanting to know why I haven’t answered and if I’m okay. Timberly’s are messages of frantic worry as she states that 81 is now worried and if I don’t ring her back so she can inform him I am alive; she will kick my door in and he will turn around and come back to see for himself.
I flick a text to them both
#iamalive. sorry not sorry. I was showering.
That should be enough to calm both their inner psycho’s.
Talking about psycho’s, I need to plan the demise of one said psycho and fast. I have no clue when 81 will be back and I want it done before he is even close to coming home. I need it for me, too. I need what I do to be gone from my eyes so he can’t see that sin inside.
My mind wanders as I trace my finger over the scar on my face.
I wonder if I will feel anything before and after? What would it be like to take a man’s last breath from his body… watch the lights go out and the stare to become dead, vacant and gone? To actually kill someone.
These thoughts have me pouring drink after drink while I plot everything out on large, white pieces of paper. All the how’s, what’s and when’s with larger colorful vivid markers. It looks more like a bright happy poster than what it’s meant to be - a plot of death plan.
The loud ringing of my phone splinters through my ears as I pull my face from the table, drool sticking to the paper. Wow, I must have fallen asleep. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and answer my phone. Before I even get the chance to speak, his cold and narcissistic voice rings in my ears. It stills my blood to ice in my veins.
“I see that the biker has abandoned his little bird when there is a big bad wolf out there.”
My mind runs as my body tries to remember to breath.Keep ya shit together, Jade,my inner bitch yells at me as the good bitch has a panic attack and starts to breathe into a paper bag.
Stay calm,she calls to me. Think before you speak.Again, she’s like a calming voice to keep me from joining the baby in the corner beathing into a bag.
“He’s a brave man when he’s not the only one who wants to taste your blood,” he says through the line, his breath so heavy I can almost feel it. My place is dark, bar the string of fairy lights that hang around the massive wall of glass that opens my apartment to the view of the whole street below. Slowly, I put one foot in front of the other and walk toward the wall of glass. Placing one palm on the glass my heat mixes with the cool sending a fog to tremble out around my hand.
“Little bird, little bird, you wanna let the big bad wolf in?” He sings out meshing his sickness with a laugh that sends shards of pain down my spine. That voice pulls back all the memories that I had locked away. All the files fly open as a strong breeze of the past blows them open, pictures fly everywhere assaulting me.
“Little bird, little bird, I will blow and blow until your walls all fall down.” He cackles. My eyes meet his as he is standing outside his car. His face is dotted in dark bruises and swollen, making a smile press at the corner of my lips.
“Oh, Carl, who would have thought that the color purple would look so good on your face.” Running my tongue out and over my too dry lips, his body sucks in a deep breath.
“Oh, Jade. I’m going to show you just how good it looks, baby,” he seethes as I press my body against the glass.
“Well, baby, I’m here. Come on up and get it,” I bite out just as Timberly opens the door from the shop and starts to walk across the street. She sees me in the window and waves up at me as I wave down at her. Carl’s eyes move from me to her as she crosses the street toward my place.
“Oh, baby, you will keep,” he breathes into the phone.
“I will look forward to it,” I bite back.
“Wow, Jade, you got yaself some balls now, have ya?” he questions me as Timberly knocks on the door.
“Not balls, Carl, just a plan.” I hang up just as he went to speak. Waving down at him, I turn and open the door to let Timberly in.
After one-to-many glasses of whiskey and trashy reality TV, Timberly stumbles out of my apartment cooing into the phone to Ghost. I rummage through the fridge and cupboards seeking some food to munch on and soak up some of this liquor swimming around in my body. My phone rings across the room. I run, fall, slide toward it falling over the couch and laughing as I hit answer.
“Well, well, while daddy’s away the little bird will play.” 81’s voice sends an electric heat straight to my core causing my pussy to dampen at just the sound of his voice.
All I can do is laugh and laugh some more as tears fall from my eyes.
“Little bird, are you drunk?” he asks as I clear my throat and suck down the giggles and place a serous voice on.
“No, no, biker boy, I am not. What makes you think that?” I roll onto my back on the floor and pull the blanket from the couch, wrapping it around me as his breathing settles the butterflies in my stomach. My head falls back as dreams pull me down to the sound of his voice. I hear him talking to me and all I can do is murmur into the phone.
The last thing I hear him say that my mind seems to pull out and hold onto is. “Little bird, I don’t wanna hurt no more. I cannot seem to kill the pain. It’s only gone when I’m with you.”
I recall murmuring out into the inky night, down the line to the man who has stolen my broken soul and allows me to bleed into his cracks.
