MyLindy girl.
I want her name on my tongue again.I want her in my house, in my bed, in my life, carved into my ribs.I’ve never had a craving like this, and I’ve fed some twisted appetites in my time.This is worse.Better.Both.
As soon as I step inside, I lock the door behind me, more out of habit than necessity.The security system could hold off a small army.Adrian made sure of that.
Still wired, I pace to the office and pull up her file again.The PDF of her résumé.Her credentials.The sanitized bullshit of a life.
None of it mentions the way her voice makes my spine go taut.
I drag my hand down my face and lean back in my chair.Stare at the ceiling like it’ll whisper some kind of divine logic.Then I grab my phone and text Adrian.
She needs her windows tinted.
Adrian:
Jesus Christ.You kissed her on the cheek once and now you’re accessorizing her car?
First of all, prick, stop watching me.Second of all, I saw a man look at her like she was prey.Her windows are fishbowl glass.
Adrian:
First of all, technically I wasn’t watching you.Caleb was.Exactly as you told us to.But whatever, you got it, Romeo.Anything else while I’m at it?Bulletproof glass?Ejection seat?
That only applies when I am not watching her myself.Just the tint for now.
Adrian:
Are you sure that man wasn’t just looking at her?
I know your eyes don’t work, but mine still do.
Adrian:
Cool.You have eyes.I have instincts and ten terabytes of dirt on people.Wanna compare superpowers?
I drop the phone on my desk and spin the chair slowly, staring out the window like I’m some tragic motherfucker in a noir film.I’m a killer.I’ve seen things that no one should, things that, if there were a God, wouldn’t be allowed to exist.I’ve been through shit that should have broken me, killed me, or made me kill myself.My father planted the seed, Uncle Leven made sure it flourished.I was literallymadefor this life.But she looked at me like I’m the good guy.And for a second, I wanted to be.
That’s the problem.
She makes me want to be a better man.Makes me want more than I ever thought I could have.And I can’t afford that, because it’s too late for that man.I’m not a string of choices in the shape of a man.This shit is in my DNA, and you can’t unwrite DNA.
The walls feel too close.My skin too tight.I need the ache.The sting.Something real to hit.I head for the basement.I don’t tape my hands.Never do, not even at my office.Pain keeps me sharp.Keeps the noise at bay.
I swing hard.The heavy bag snaps on its chain.I brace it with my forearm, breathing heavy.Everything comes back to that first cut.The one that made me.The one thatfreedme.
Thud.My father died gurgling on the end of a blade I held steady.
Thud.Twelve years old.Didn't flinch.Didn't cry.
Thud.Dad didn’t beg.Didn’t ask why.Heknew.Monsters always know when their time’s up.
Kick.Uncle Leven finds me covered in blood and calls it a beginning.
Thud.He teaches me how to gut a man quiet.How to kill loud.How to worship pain like a religion and to never, ever hesitate.Pain isn’t real,he’d say.It’s all in your head.You can stop feeling it at any time.
Thud.London was the only softness.The only light.The baby of the bloodline.All bouncy curls and chaos and glittery shoes.
Thud.She'd sit cross-legged on the edge of the mat while I trained and give the whole gym a play-by-play.Ten for my stabby cuz,she’d grin.Zero for the mean face.
