He went out scavenging for food on his own while I kept our place as clean as I could. At some point, he met up with other people, and eventually, he sold me. For what, I do not know.
“You ready?” Hunter asks, his expression unreadable.
“Yeah.”
“Remember, ten steps behind.”
“How could I forget?”
I follow him into the building, and up the familiar stairs to the place I once dwelt. For a moment, I’m paralyzed, unable to move, but after the anxiety abates, a calmness washes over me.
I’m in control of this situation. We’re here at my request.
And the horrors that are to be inflicted on my ex are at my demand.
Hunter stops at the entrance to the apartment. I hold back on the stairs, knowing that the moment I stop obeying his orders, he’ll bring me home.
And as scared as I am by all of this, I have no intention of turning away. There’s a dark feeling growing inside me I have no desire to quell.
“I’m going in,” Hunter says, his voice low. “I want you to stay here until I call to you. You got that?”
I nod my head, because I’m so damn eager to get revenge.
He slams the butt of his rifle down on the doorknob and rushes into the apartment. Bile fills my throat as worry takes hold. Brett isn’t nearly as strong or muscular as Hunter, but it’s possible he could somehow get the upper hand.
Please let my dark Hunter be okay. I don’t think I can go on without him.
An odd emotion prickles me, slowly seeping in but not letting itself be fully known.
It feels familiar. Like a shadow from my past.
Focus. A lot can happen when you’re out committing murder,I remind myself.
Just when I feel as though my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest, Hunter pokes his head out of the apartment. “Come on in.”
The first thing I see is blood splattered across the room. The second is Brett’s battered face.
He’s seated in a chair, but there’s nothing restraining him. His head is bent forward, dripping blood onto the floor.
“Should I work slowly?” Hunter asks.
“Yes…”
“Take a seat.” Hunter gestures to the couch.
Brett comes to his senses and tries to get up, but Hunter pushes him down and binds him to the chair.
“What the fuck, man—” His eyes lock on mine. “Fiona?”
“Long time no see, you stupid piece of shit.”
“Wh-what’s going on?”
“My new boyfriend is going to torture you,” I say. Hunter does nothing to indicate his feelings towards the word ‘boyfriend,’ but it feels good to say it out loud.
Is that what he is to me, though? Is it what I want him to be?
“Don’t do this, Fifi,” Brett pleads.
