She turned the television on; the sound filled the room with a murmur I couldn’t decipher. I pressed my forehead against the wall and asked the stillness in my room, “Why did you run, Sadie? Why did you leave your brother hanging for what you did?”
She didn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t, not until I stood in front of her and asked her the same questions.
Maybe not even then.
But I had to try.
It was my job to find the truth.
To find the answers no one else knew.
I waited until I knew she had finished her food, then I walked outside and stood in front of her door with my hands braced on the frame. My head hung down between my arms, and for the second time in my life, I didn’t want to know the truth.
They said the truth will set you free, but I didn’t want to be free from my obsession with Sadie Nelson. I didn’t want to know who she really was below the surface. I didn’t want my dreams of the perfect woman to be shattered into millions of pieces I couldn’t glue back together.
I took a deep breath and tapped on the door.
As I waited for her to answer, I wondered if she knew it was me. Was she afraid of who might be on the other side of her door? Was she afraid of me?
I knocked again, and still no answer. I tried the doorknob and smiled when it didn’t turn. At least she was acting smart about her safety. Not that this plywood door would keep anyone out.
It didn’t keep me out earlier.
And it wouldn’t keep me out now.
I quickly picked the lock, and the door swung open. An empty room and the sound of running water greeted me. The bathroom door was slightly open, and I could see her reflection in the mirror.
She was in the shower, naked before my eyes.
I stared at her image. My eyes glued to her soap-lathered hands as she ran them over her body. She was oblivious to the danger around her. Self-awareness was something Sadie Nelson didn’t have.
She couldn’t sense me, and it bothered me more than I realized. I wanted her to feel my presence in the room. Wanted her to know my eyes were focused on only her.
I closed the door quietly and sat in the chair in the corner, obscuring my view. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, tearing my eyes off her body.
I heard the water shut off, the shower door open, and then close. My arms lay on my thighs, hands clasped together between my knees as I closed my eyes and imagined her drying off. Fantasized that I was the towel soaking up the droplets of water that ran over her skin.
I looked up when I heard her sharp gasp.
I could have died right then and been satisfied with the life I’d lived, because Mercedes Nelson was standing in the bathroom doorway, her body completely uncovered aside from the small towel she held in front of her.
A towel that barely hid her tits.
A towel that wasn’t quite long enough to hide her pussy.
I bit my lip; my mouth was as dry as the Sahara as I tried to speak, but my brain short-circuited the moment my eyes fell on her.
“Billy, what are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I licked my lips and stood. Slowly, I stalked across the room like a tiger after its prey. Forgetting, in that moment, why I was there. Forgetting that her long-time boyfriend had died only a few days ago, likely by her hand. Forgetting that she was probably terrified as I towered over her.
Her eyes told me she was too scared to move. She swallowed, and my hand went to her throat as I gently ran a finger down the side of her neck and across her chest, curling it around the edge of the towel and pulling it free.
Her hands immediately covered her tits. Her soft, plump belly hid her pussy from me at this angle as I looked down at her. She wasn’t tall. Maybe five foot four or five. Tiny compared to my six-foot-two frame. The top of her head barely reached my shoulders.
Her eyes were wide with fear and something I dared not hope for. I slowly leaned down, keeping my eyes focused on hersoft lips.
That was when I saw it.
