“Do you need me to drive you?” I offered as we approached her vehicle.
“No, I can manage. Thank you, though.” She smiled, opening her car door.
I hesitated for a moment, watching her get into the driver’s seat. “Call me later?”
“Of course,” Rosalie answered. “You’re sweet.”
I’m sweet. She thinks I’m sweet.
I felt the heat rise within my cheeks. Those two words were so simple, yet they meant so much to me. “Drive safe,” I took a step back and watched her pull out of the parking lot. I stood there, anger burned within me as I retraced our interaction with Jason. I needed to find him and put him in his place. It wasn’t rational, and the police were already beginning to question three dead bodies in the past couple months… I had to be careful. The last thing I needed was my uncle to come prowling around.
This town was small—too small for my liking.
It wasn’t hard to track Jason down. It was mid-afternoon, and a few hours had passed since Rosalie and I’s initial interaction with him. He was so predictable. Based on his social media, he always hung around the same run down bars. I waited for the proper moment to strike. I lifted my hood over my head. Lucky for me, it was dreary out, which made it even darker than what it should be. I used it to my advantage. Watching him stumble out of the bar drunk, my hands in my pockets, I took a breath.
I’m doing this for her.
“Hey Jason—” I called out. The moment he turned around, I punched him so hard in the face he nearly fell on his ass.
Good god that felt good.
Jason grabbed the nearby lamppost to steady himself. “What the fuck—” he grimaced. Turning back to me, he attempted to throw a punch at me. “The hell do you think you are?”
I smiled. “Your worst nightmare.” With considerable strength, I shoved Jason to the ground. I felt alive—something primal, something raw. Something inside me that drove me to keep going. This wasn’t merely about sending a message, or even making a statement. I was going to fucking kill him.
It was the only way to truly protect Rosalie.
I kicked his teeth in, watching him roll onto his side. Jason grunted, spitting blood onto the concrete. Without a moment of hesitation, I reached down and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him towards the alleyway. I wasn’t concerned about the blood, the rain would wash it away. Even if the police utilized a blood kit, it wouldn't make a difference. It wasn't my blood being spilt.
“What are you doing—” Jason choked out.
The air thickened with anticipation. The adrenaline was almost overwhelming. I smiled. “Goodbye, Jason,” I picked up a pipe that was lying by the dumpster, and delivered a blow tohis head that echoed like thunder in the night. The crunch of his nose breaking on impact was such a sweet sound; the thrill of power tasted even sweeter. I swung the pipe again, and again. Watching Jason’s blood splatter until he was unrecognizable, nothing but a bloody carcass left to rot.
With the pipe still in hand, I looked down to see the blood that dripped from it. I would have to dispose of the pipe, my gloves and these clothes. Easy enough, really. Nothing I hadn’t done before.
I stepped back into the light.
No matter the cost, I would always protect Rosalie.
6
Rosalie
The silence was always the worst part. Not the clammy emptiness of an abandoned text thread, or unanswered calls that remained untouched either. It was the dull, throbbing ache in my head that mirrored the gaping void in my chest. I started down at my phone. Three days. Three days I had been ghosted by Andrew. Three days of rereading our last conversation, searching for some hidden clue or subtle shift that would have hinted towards his silence but—nothing. My date with Silas was a good distraction, but I had been on plenty of dates with plenty of guys and it was always the same.
No one ever stuck around. Not even my own parents.
It sucked. I didn’t just have Daddy issues; I had Mommy issues too. I spent my whole life trying to earn my parents’ love and affection from beyond the grave, but I knew it was a lost cause. Gran was supportive, but she always had the same disappointed look in her eye my mother used to have. Nothing I did would ever be good enough, and that would never change. It didn’t matter how good my grades were, or how well I placed at dance competitions, I never once earned any sort of praise. Yet,despite knowing I would never get it—it only made me want it that much more.
“God, what is wrong with me?” I muttered, tossing my phone onto my bed with a frustrated thud. The sheets were still crumpled from the night before, but I couldn’t care less about making my bed. Between ballet, my classes, and working at the cafe, my hands were quite full as is.
Did I say something wrong? Was I too eager? Not eager enough? Did he find someone else? Is it because I didn’t want to fuck on the first date? Is it because I’m in my twenties and still a virgin?
The possibilities were endless, all of which were a dagger to my barely existent self-esteem.
I rose from sitting on the corner of my bed, walking over to the window. I pushed open the heavy pink cotton curtains to look out at the town below. A soft, persistent drizzle smudged the lines of the nearby buildings and made the streetlights into soft halos of diffused light. The mirror seemed to mimic my mood, and I hated it.
I really hated this tiny town sometimes. I grew up on the other side where it was less crowded, but I stayed here because it was all I knew. Sometimes I wondered if I was making the right choice by staying here or not. Honestly, I think I was just too scared to leave what was familiar. Starting new was… scary. Equally as scary as potentially making the wrong decision that would affect the course of my life. Besides, as much as I hated it here, I loved my dance studio and the productions we put forth year after year. However, living in the middle of nowhere seemed to have more cons than pros. Everyone knew everyone, and it was hard to just live without someone poking their nose where it didn’t belong.
