I stay curled into myself, silently crying, praying to not wake in the morning. Still, when I do, sadness envelopes me, as I force my beaten body out of my twin bed, feeling my hair andscalp dried with blood, my body bares bruises I can’t see, but feel as my hand roams over the welts all over my arms.
“Can’t you just do something for me for once?” I whisper out to God, hating him for allowing me to wake up once again.
I’m yanked out of my memory by yells coming down the street. Squinting my eyes, I watch a man waving his arms as he walks backward, yelling at someone. I can’t hear what he’s screaming, but by the looks of it, it isn’t friendly.
The other person runs toward the man walking backward. Their arm swings out and hits the man. I watch as he falls onto the broken concrete path.
I raise a bit higher in my seat to watch it all play out as the person kicks and screams at the man, then bends down, searches his pockets, turns, and runs away.
I wait, watching, but the man doesn’t move.
“Fuck,” I say to the empty cab as I open the driver's door, stepping out, pulling the hoodie over my head. Jogging toward the man on the ground, I stop when I get a look at him. My heart feels like it’s not beating anymore, as my stomach drops. Laying there unconscious is David. Skinnier, grayer, and older. I watch his stomach move up and down, thankful he’s still alive, because I want to be the one to take him out of this world, not some fucking junky.
I stand there. I could easily do it right now, but I want him to know what’s coming. That’s too easy for him and, fuck, for me too.
I scurry back when he starts moving, coming to, but I stop before closing the gap between us, bending down. “Your time is running out,” I whisper to him as he struggles to open his eyesbefore I turn around, leaving him lying on the ground where he belongs.
I want to get out of this town as fast as possible, and I do. Before I know it, the welcome sign is just a blimp in my rearview mirror, as I speed up, needing the comfort and peace of my home.
The last thing I thought when I went there was that I would get that close to David, but God is funny, I guess. I rub my head where the scar from that night still sits. It needed stitches, but I didn’t have money, nor could I have gone to the hospital. I super-glued my wound shut while biting on a rag in my bedroom; the stinging is something I’ll never forget.
I make it back home in record time, surprised I didn’t get pulled over. I wanted as much distance as I could between me and that fucking town. The entire drive, the only thing I thought about was David’s demise.
It gives me joy that he’s still a piece of shit, living in his own hell, of his own making.
Once home, I feel like I can inhale deeply. The smell of the grass welcomes me, as well as Roxy’s wagging tail, who meets me on the front steps.
Chapter Twelve
Luca
Smiling when the tree greets me, my shoulders feel less heavy, finally being able to relax them.
“Baby,” I call to her even though she can’t hear me, as she stands in the doorway, welcoming me back home.
My strides are huge to make it to her faster as I drop my luggage at her feet, taking her into my arms, breathing in her scent, knowing I’m truly home. Packing up what happened at the job for me to stow away and forget about it.
Rowan leans back, taking my face between her dainty hands. “Hi, baby.” She kisses my lips, her thumbs rub my exposed cheeks.
Pulling away, her blue eyes scan my face, looking for any telltale signs, but she won’t find anything. Her eyebrows draw together as she squints at me. I can see she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lets go of my face, leaving me to follow her into the house.
Soft music is playing, candles are lit, and the aroma of dinner permeates the air.
“Go get cleaned up and meet me back here,” she instructs me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I pop her ass as she walks away, a giggle trailing behind her. I walk into the bathroom, and she already has clothes sitting out for me. What the fuck did I do to get this lucky?
The hot water hits my knotted muscles just right, trying its best to unfurl them.
Closing my eyes, they fly back open when the sight of his pleading face emerges in my mind. I don’t know his name and never will. Shit like this happens; it’s a part of the job, but it rarely happens to me, if ever.
“I’m sorry,” I say into the steamy shower. Shaking my head, my wet hair and beard sending trickles of water, like a wet dog, before I step out of the glass enclosure.
I only slip on the silky basketball shorts, forgoing the boxers and T-shirt Rowan had sat out for me.
Entering downstairs, she’s standing in the kitchen, oblivious to my entrance. My dick wakes up the moment I step behind her, pulling her to me.
“Shit,” she shockingly calls out.
