Chapter
Six
Ihate how I can’t hide the fact that being around Esme is a chore right now. At least I can’t hide it from myself. I feel guilty about it, and that feeling makes me itch like no other. But when Esme isn’t here, if she’s at work or…wherever she’s been going lately, I feel a bit of dreadful relief that I don’t have to put up with her spiraling.
I don’t understandwhyshe’s so upset. Alan is dead, and it’s been nearly a week since I killed him. Hell, she’s not even the one responsible. I was the one to do it, and even if the cops were to come knocking she wouldn’t be the one going to jail for life.
That would be all me.
Yoichi flicks out his tongue as he lifts his head from my shoulder, his black eyes bright and intelligent as he surveys my face. “What?” I murmur, gently leaning back against my old, comfortable recliner with my legs curled up under me. “What’s wrong, babe?”
Even for a snake, I swear he knows more than most humans. I reach out to stroke along the bottom of his jaw, and Yoichi continues to watch me like he’s giving me his own silent pep-talk or lecture.
I’m choosing to believe it’s a pep talk, and that my best animal friend wouldn’t turn against me and give me the disappointed dad look like Cassian would and did, even over the phone. I didn’t need his help three days ago, and I don’t need his help now.
Again I’m glad I haven’t told Esme about the USB stick or the ‘invitation’ I obviously ignored. If anything would’ve succeeded in breaking her, it would’ve been that. I can’t handle her worse than she is now, and that thought makes another twist of guilt to tie my intestines into knots.
“I don’t normally feel like this,” I sigh. “Seriously. I didn’t do anything wrong. Isavedher, you know?” That’s what I’ve been telling myself. I just did it to save her, because the cops wouldn’t have shown up in time to help.
Right?
That has to be it. Yeah, that’s what happened. The more I remember it, the more I go over it in my head, the more I’m able to convince myself that it was purely in defense of my friend and not something…else.
Somethingwrong.
“I did nothing wrong.” I’ve been repeating those words to myself, though it isn’t guilt that makes my heart flutter when I say them.
I did nothing wrong.
Not this time, not last time. But if I go that far, if I let myself believe I had a reason and that I should just let it out sometimes, then what if?—
A knock on the door makes me look up, and I glance toward the living room with narrowed eyes. I’m not expecting anyone, and Esme sure as hell isn’t going to knock.
Without putting Yoichi back into his cage, I get to my bare feet and pad to the living room. It’s messier than normal, thanks to Esme’s spiral and her insistence that she wants to be the oneto clean it up, instead of letting me help. I try not to look at the pots and pans, the pillows, or the pile of clothes on the floor outside the primary suite Esme claimed a few years ago when she offered to pay more of the rent. She makes better money than I do, and I’m not particularly picky, so it had been an easy thing for me to agree to.
I don’t bother looking through the peephole on the thick door. Maybe it’s something I should learn, though at this point, the only person who bothers me is dead and hopefully being gnawed on by marine life.
But a boy I don’t know stands outside my apartment, looking maybe twenty at most, and wearing an open jacket over an old, ratty hoodie. “I have a delivery for, umm. You?” he asks awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. “I-I was told to take this here. To this apartment.”
“Oh?” We stand there looking at each other, his eyes wide and face twitching. It hits me then that he’s most definitely high and not actually a delivery boy or mailman. The realization puts me on edge, and I glance toward the block of knives in the kitchen before I look back at him with brows raised. Yoichi coils a little more tightly around my shoulders, and the boy’s eyes go to him, filled suddenly with appreciation.
“H-he’s a rat snake, right?” the boy asks, reaching out one trembling hand carefully, though he doesn’t actually pet the snake. “He’s got more white on him than I’ve seen before. My brother raised reptiles.” For a moment he looks completely sober until he flinches backward like he’s been struck.
If I were Esme, I’d bundle him inside, offer him food, and try to find someone to take this poor kid in.
But I’m not Esme, and I have enough problems of my own without inviting an addict into our house.
“Yeah. He’s a black rat snake. He just turned three,” I explain, deciding to at least be a little nice. “You said you hadsomething for me?” I don’t know what he could have, but I hold out my hand when he digs around in the pockets of his heavy jacket.
“Yes. Yep, I—” He brandishes a manila envelope with a flourish, and my heart suddenly sinks when I see the curling script of my name on the front.
Sierra ‘Tova’ Morwen.
The last letter had just had my middle name,Tova,on it. Not my first. The sight of it makes my blood run cold, but I numbly reach out to take it from him. When I don’t say anything, the boy mumbles something and starts turning, but the one kind bone in my body has me calling out to him.
“Wait. Please?” I dig in my pockets, glad that I always have my emergency cash in my phone wallet. My fingers curl around the paper, and I pull out two twenties, which I hold out to the boy.
He freezes, looking awkward. “He…already paid me,” the boy admits sheepishly, though he has his eyes on the money.
