Page 63 of Intrepid

SERA: West side. I take care of an older lady on the weekends.

ME: How bout if I come and pick you up. You can run your errand then I’ll take you on that date you promised me.

The dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.

SERA: You’re relentless.

ME: Tenacious, remember? Text me your location.

The map that popped up showed an apartment on the west side. I’d seen her go in and out of the place a couple of the times I’d followed her around, but figured it was a friend of hers, or something, since she’d stayed overnight and another girl came and went.

SERA: Give me an hour or so, okay? Just gotta finish up a few things.

ME: See you in an hour.

I exited the text app and clutched the phone so tight, the anger bubbling inside of me could’ve had me crushing it with my bare hands. Deep breaths through my nose failed to calm the rage I had no business carrying.

I should’ve been gathering up my supplies—the duct tape I’d place over her mouth to muffle the cries, the rope to bind her hands, the blindfold to shield her eyes from seeing what a fucking bastard I’d turned out to be. I had no desire to pack those things, so I scrolled through pics, the majority of which were of Sera. Walking to class. Having coffee at a café. Studying with her hand lodged in her long blonde-and-blue hair.

I hated her for what she’d become to me. An obsession I couldn’t shake. As much as it sickened me to look at her, it excited me, too.

I stared at the picture, eyeing the small bit of cleavage peeking up from the tight black shirt she wore. Made me think of the way her tits bounced when she walked, sticking out over her small waist, and those legs that went on forever. I imagined her toned thighs wrapped around my back, with her face tipped in ecstasy.

Fuck, her moans’d probably sound like music. She’d be tight, too. So goddamn tight, I’d have to bite down on my tongue to keep from railing into her, splitting her right open. I’d told myself she’d be a quick and easy hate fuck, but I couldn’t imagine hating a single second of fucking her.

A mental image of Sera’s face caught up in climax, and the imagined sounds of her screams, coiled around my spine, sending goosebumps across my skin. Those screams morphed into horrific cries of terror inside my head, with that look of ecstasy quickly swapped for the horror she’d be forced to witness. Just like I’d been forced to do all those years ago. I’d make her bear witness to her own father’s death. The blood and butchery would destroy her; the same way it’d destroyed me.

I focused on her face, still lit up on my screen.

It’d be the last time I could stand to look at her. The last time I’d see her face through the eyes of someone who still had a heart, instead of the empty vessel I’d become after it was all said and done.

I sat up in bed and flipped on the light beside me, catching sight of the boy staring at me from across the room. My stomach roiled with an unfounded sense of anger, as his presence only reminded me of the task ahead.

“This is what you wanted.” I snarled, as the rage exploded to the surface. “Isn’t it? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

The boy stood silently watching me, those lifeless eyes failing to reveal a damn thing.

“She has to pay for what she did, doesn’t she? They’ll all pay. Isn’t that what you told me?” I slammed my knuckles into the wooden floor beside me, my whole body shaking as I slumped forward, as my mind battled my heart.

She’s not what she seems. You were wrong about her.

Four years of therapy. Nightmares. Hallucinations.

You could still have a future. You could forgive her.

The screams. The headaches. The promise.

I took deep breaths, clicking off the phone, and tossed it onto the bed.

Couldn’t stand to look at her. Couldn’t stand to breathe. Everything I wanted, everything I’d fantasized about, was wrapped up in the woman whose name had long paved the path for vengeance.

Staring down at my hands, I wondered if I had the strength, if I could stomach watching my hands squeeze the life out of her. As the blinding rage behind my eyes distorted them, I thumped both heels of my palms against my temples.

“She’s the reason. It was her.” I rubbed my hands across my skull, grinding the shit out of my teeth. “I do this … I don’t ever want to see you again. Hear? You leave me the fuck alone!” Swiping up a bottle of whiskey beside the bed, I chucked it across the room, where it shattered against the wall.

The boy was no longer there.

A howl of rage bellowed from my chest, sending tremors through my body.