“Who the fuck are you?” I demand and receive no answer.
Their silence eery and drawn out.
I wait but nothing happens. I push forward slowly and end up walking straight past whoever it is and continue following the path of blood. When it reaches the next flight of stairs up to my room, I’m on the verge of throwing up. The bitter copper smellgrows stronger with every step to the top. Blood drips from the doorknob and I have to pull my sleeve down just to twist it.
Not two seconds after the door swings open do I crash to my knees at the sight before me. River is sat in the middle of the room, splashing the pool of blood surrounding him. Tor, my fucking wife, and reason for my existence is laid beside him. She’s dead but I can’t see why or where all the blood is coming from. I tear my eyes away from her, preparing to go get my son, when the masked figure is stood over him, pointing his gun at him.
Who the fuck is this guy? I’m going to smash his head into the wall until it’s completely caved in and then set his body alight. But I can’t move. I go to warn him off but I can’t open my mouth… I jackknife up and sweat coats every inch of my body. Tor is sleeping beside me. River is awake but happily kicking his feet in the air in his crib. Princess is curled up by the door, not on alert. It was a fucking nightmare.
It felt too real. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the blood.
I’m too on edge to lie back down and go back to sleep. I throw on a pair of sweats and grab River before his happy mood turns to shit and he wakes Tor. We head down to the bar and find no one is up. Stood behind the bar, I watch the security screens. The street is empty apart from a fox lingering around. If someone was lurking it would spook the fox. Out back is still and I spend ten minutes flitting my eyes from one screen to another.
“Gotta be sure, son. Now we’ve got the Mayor’s daughter here, we’ve gotta be extra vigilant.”
His beady little eyes pierce through mine and I wonder if he takes in any of what I say. As long as he knows my voice, that’s good enough for now.
He slaps at my face and begins kicking his legs.
“You hungry, my boy? Let’s get you some milk.”
Sitting River in his bouncy chair, it doesn’t take me long to prepare his bottle. I go to turn when Annabel is stood in the doorway. I don’t like the fact I didn’t hear her approach, and I don’t like the way her gaze is locked on my chest. I clear my throat, and it snaps her out of her trance, if that’s what it was.
I cross the kitchen and settle my son in my arms and tip the bottle to his lips.
“You have a baby living here?” she blurts out still stood frozen in the doorway.
“He’s my son, where else would he live?” I tell her, going on to ask, “Why are you up in the middle of the night?”
“I stayed up to finish my book. I was thirsty.”
“There’s plenty to choose from in the fridge. Help yourself.”
I watch my son get his full of his milk and then internally sigh when Annabel sits at the table.
“This place of yours is like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” she remarks.
“Once your father wins the election, you never will again.”
“I’ve been thinking,” she starts.
I don’t like it when people think, because then they talk, and it just out right annoys the shit out of me. “How does my father know someone like you?”
“He doesn’t know me.” I make that shit clear as fucking day.
“He must do for me to be here.”
“This is a favor to someone else. As far as I’m concerned, your father doesn’t even exist.”
She laughs sadly. “Funny, I’ve always thought I didn’t exist to him.”
I keep my mouth shut. I’m not chit-chatting with her. I watch my son, stroking his chubby cheek as he drinks.
I enjoy the silence that fills the kitchen wondering when she’s going to take her ass back to her room when she says, “You look real good with a baby in your arms.”
For the briefest moment I have no idea what to say so I say fuck all.
“How long have you been married?”
