“Please!” he wheezes, still trying to catch his breath.
“No,” I respond coldly, tightening my grip on the knife.
Here’s another fun fact. Did you know that stabbing an unpeeled orange feels exactly like stabbing human flesh? It’s a strange comparison, but the resistance and the way the knife sinks in are eerily similar.
The only difference is that an orange doesn’t shit itself as a result.
I plunge the knife into his gut and yank down—Oh, I love that squelching sound; it makes me feel all tingly. It’s only when his guts spill out like udon noodles bursting from a broken package that I put the blade down.
Panting heavily, I get to my feet, leaving crimson footprints as I stumble back to the phone. Bloodied fingerprints mar the surface; I don’t take her off hold right away. Instead, I watch Katie roam about her house, unaware that I will have eyes on her at all times.
No one will ever hurt this girl again, and if they try, well…I have no problem turning them into pig slop, too.
“Sorry about that.” I heave a sigh, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror in front of me. Cherry rivulets run down my chest, dripping off the tip of my erection onto the concrete floor beneath my feet. “Sunday is fine; just tell me when and where.”
11
KATIE
I wish I could say it was hard, or at the very least, challenging, to find information on Aiden. I was thinking that I’d be swallowed down by the wormhole that is Google search results; instead, his beautiful face is everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE!
I even came across some fan fiction about him written by several people, all fantasising about Dublin’s notorious bad boy.
I knew he looked somewhat familiar when I saw him in Dandelions; I must have scrolled past his pictures countless times without realising it. There is even an article on that “alleged shooting” of the garda Ciara was talking about. The picture headlining the article looks like something from a movie poster. Aiden is in the back of a garda car, handcuffed but, all in all, maintaining a calm and composed demeanour. I could swear that I saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t.
Pictures are dating as far back as his teens, an amateur boxerturned MMA fighter.
With a name I can place.
Craig Barnes.
As much as I try to avoid the news, there was no avoiding the headlines about Craig, and there sure as hell was no avoiding it when his now wife (then girlfriend) wrote a book about everything that happened with her stalker boyfriend and how Craig risked being skewered like a kebab to fight him off. The book was an instant best-seller and trust the Bookstagram community to plaster the delicious carpenter all over their feeds.
It’s hard to picture Aiden in the same light.
It’s harder to imagine that they know each other and, according to the articles I could find, are friendly with each other, or at least they were. Apparently, it was Craig’s brother-in-law who Aiden “shot.”
A few more clicks and searches revealed that Aiden had a troubled past and was involved in some minor criminal activities.
“I mean, he’s fucking everywhere!” I hold the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I continue scrolling through the articles.
Maria, my best friend since childhood, all but chokes down the phone. I don’t know what she finds funnier, the fact that I had no clue who Aiden is, his treatment of Ciara the other day, or the fact that he took it upon himself to arrange home security for me. The new alarm was installed yesterday; my old one wasn’t good enough, apparently.
“How did you not know?” Maria finally manages to get out over her overdramatic cackling.
I land on articles about his ex-wife. “Fuck, she’s stunning,”I mutter under my breath. Maria’s laughter dies down immediately. “Don’t let his charm blind you.”
“Please,” I scoff. “I know he’s a walking red flag. I’ve got a knack for picking them out now.”
Maria and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your take on things, we had all too similar childhoods. We both grew up in addictive households; while my parents favoured the drink, her father favoured drugs.
We’ve both been raped, assaulted, and abused in more ways than we can count. We are both recovering from past eating disorders and body dysmorphia. Bulimia for me, anorexia for Maria. It’s amazing the lengths you go through to take control in a world that feels so out of control.
We have weathered every storm together, and I don’t think I’d be alive right now if it were not for her. She knows everything there is to know about me. She knows things that not even my family knows about me. She’s been my one constant in life, my sister from another mister. My soulmate.
I know most people claim that they would kill for their friends, but it’s not a false promise for me when it comes to Maria. If anyone tried to hurt her, I’d slice them from throat to ball bag, and much like Aiden in the back of the Garda car, I’d smile in my mugshot.
“Didn’t you say you were meeting up with him for coffee today?” She presses, and I imagine her eyebrow has shot into her purple hairline.
