Fighting with me won’t get him the results he wants.
Alan freezes mid-step, and I’m not sure if it’s something in my face or just my vibe that warns him to stop. But we stand there, staring each other down in the hallway with the buzzing lights that no one else seems capable of hearing, even when they’re loud to my ears.
“I don’t know what your problem is,” Alan murmurs coolly. “I don’t know if you’re slow, stupid, or just that fucked up. But I want you to give me your goddamn key so I can go talk to my fucking girlfriend.”
“Nope.” I pop the p, and watch him through slightly narrowed eyes. “I think if Es wanted to talk to you”—my gaze drifts to the door—“she’d let you in. She’s certainly not deaf, and you’re definitely not quiet. I don’t know how the cops haven’t been called yet, but?—”
He’s not that fast when he moves. I duck away from him, though Alan is able to snag my hoodie with his fingers, yanking on the fabric hard enough I hear the stitches rip. I stumble toward him, thrown off balance, and my fingers curl into a fist as I prepare to use the momentum he’s given me to swing at his face?—
Our door opens suddenly, slamming back on its hinges, and Esme stumbles out into the hallway, her face pale. “What are you doing?” she yelps, her eyes wide and freckles standing out on her skin as she looks at Alan. “Let go of her!”
Alan does, though his movements are slow as if to prove he isn’t jumping to follow her orders. His eyes never leave mine, even though I don’t make a move to make him release me. I refuse to let him think he’s scared me, or has evoked any reaction other than absolute disdain for him at this moment.
“Finally,” he drawls at last, turning away like I mean nothing at all. Without a word, he walks to Esme, and her face palesanother few shades, as impossible as that seems, while she backs up into the apartment with quick, unsteady steps. He follows in a way that makes my skin prickle, in a way that feels predatory, and I’m quick on his heels, catching the door before he can close it and finally letting it shut behind me.
“I told you I’m done,” Esme hisses, still backing away from him until her butt hits the kitchen counter. Her hands shake as she grips the fake granite, and I’m glad for his disinterest in me. It lets me sidle around toward the living room, though my gaze never leaves his. “This isn’t what I want anymore. I don’t wantus. I want?—”
“Yeah,” Alan sneers, a laugh leaving his lips. “Youwant.It’s always all about you, isn’t it?”
“Pretty sure in this situation, itisabout what she wants,” I interject, my fingers sliding over the top of the television. I don’t look at him, even though I can feel his pissed-off glare coming my way. Instead, my gaze wanders over the entertainment stand, and I finally move on to the bookcase.
“I’m breaking up with you,” Esme says, more strongly this time. “I’mdone.This isn’t healthy for either of us. This isn’t okay. I—” Her gasp makes me look up as my fingers close around what I’m looking for. Alan has stepped forward with one hand out to grip her throat; the force of his grip is immediately alarming as Esme chokes for air, mouth open and gaping like a fish. Her hands come up to grip his wrist, and I move across the room quickly. I shove my hand into my pocket, feeling the weight of my phone there, and lunge forward to grab him, my eyes on Esme’s face.
“Let her go,” I snap, though my voice remains soft. “You’re hurting her, Alan. You’re?—”
I don’t know why I don’t expect him to whirl around, but he hits me in the face with the hand holding his phone, causing my nose to flash hot with pain before going numb from the blow.I feel something wet and hot trickling from my nostrils, but at least his blow dislodges his grip enough for Esme to scream in surprise.
She screams his name once, then again, and Alan shakes me off rather easily. I end up stumbling back a step, and he goes right back to crowding Es against the cabinet.
“Stop it!” she shrieks, her voice going hoarse again as he cuts off her air. “Alan, please stop. I just want?—”
“You want to say you’re sorry,” Alan pants. I hate that I need a second to get a hold of myself, and my hand slips into my pocket to curl around my phone. Maybe I could call the cops. I should. They’d drag him out of here and throw him in a cell. “You want to tell me you weren’t serious. Come on, Es.” He shakes her like a fucking dog, making my roommate wince as she hits the edge of the counter once more.“Tell me you’re sorry.”
She’s going to do it.
The realization hits me when her mouth opens, lower lip trembling. She’s going to say it just to get him off of her. I know that it’s a quick way to hopefully assuage his anger and get her out of danger. But it won’t help her in the long run, and it might not help her at all.
“I’m—”
“She’s not sorry.” My words are cold and sharp as I grab him, and I yank Alan around with blood dripping from my nose, causing my voice to sound less than intimidating. “Get out, Alan.” I jerk on him again, though he’s stronger and bigger than me, so my grip does very little.
A fact that’s made worse when he snarls out a laugh, his eyes fever bright. He lifts his hand to hit me across the face again, and after I stumble back from the blow, he whirls on Esme, both of his hands gripping her throat.
Then hesqueezes.
The action is not gentle. It’s not a threat. It’s a promise as he bears down on her, using his weight to push her back until she’s bent over the counter.
“Why can’t you justlisten?”he snarls, spittle flying from his teeth as he watches her face turn pale, then red, as she gasps beneath him. Her fists attempt to beat on his arms and drag at his hair, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.
A coldness settles over me, starting at my head, running to my hands, before it trickles down my spine. But instead of being unnerving, the cold feels like a comfort, whispering in my ears with crooning words I’ve heard before.
My hand goes into my pocket again, but this time, I don’t grab my phone. Instead, my fingers close around the handle of the scissors I used yesterday. This time when I ball my other hand in Alan’s jacket, he jerks around with a curse and snarl on his lips, already prepared to shake me off.
But in this moment, I decide he doesn’t deserve the chance to speak again. He’s used up his chances for the night, and I’m tired of hearing him talk. My hand plunges downward, and the scissors easily sink into his throat, the blades buried just above his collarbone.
A look of shock crosses his face, though pain isn’t part of the equation just yet. I rip the scissors free, my eyes fixed on his, and from his other side I can hear a soft whimper from Esme.
I could stop.
