“I don’t want it,” I tell him sternly.
“Do you think it’s wise for you not to have it?” he asks smugly.
“Tell me whatever I need to know.” I’m sure nothing is in there that he wouldn’t want me to know anyway. I don’t trust the Crestfields as far as I can throw them.
“Well Christopher,” he says, a little annoyed. “You should know that Cal is pretty set on killing Clay Rice, and he’s coming dangerously close to doing it,”
“What?” I ask, not able to hide my anger or surprise.
“I have done my absolute best at trying to prevent that from happening. However, since Cal has not been working for me, I’m unaware who his contacts are and the fact that he told me to go fuck myself during his last excursion, it will be more difficult than it has in the past to keep him from doing so.”
This is a bad dream. This is all a bad dream. He wants to kill someone. He wants to add murderer to the list with asshole and jerk off?
He can’t do this.
“I can’t let this happen. I won’t let this happen…” I let out a long grunt.
“What is wrong with him? Does he not care about going to jail, or ruining his life?” I ask in disbelief.
“He doesn’t think that he’ll get caught of course, Christopher.”
“Right because he doesn’t think. He just acts!”
“Do you not think that someone who has committed murder deserves to face some means of punishment?” he asks quizzically.
“It’s not my job to punish people. He’s not the judge and the jury. He doesn’t even know if this guy killed her.”
“That’s what he remembers, Chris.” I look up at him, confused.
“Remembers. He remembers?” I ask.
“He remembers quite a lot apparently.”
“I have to stop him. He can’t do this,” I say quietly.
“I need your help,” I say, forcing the words up from my throat, it tastes bitter to even say them aloud.
“With my help comes inconvenience, as you may know.”
“I don’t care about the inconvenience. If he does this, I won’t be able to deal with it. If he’s able to make this happen...” I say honestly.
“I can have someone tail you.”
“Follow me?”
“Just in case.”
“He’s resourceful, I think you need to tell Lauren what’s going on.”
With all that has happened, and all she has worried about, I don’t want to put that type of stress on her. Telling her that he…that I’m intent on killing someone—my biological father. That’s not something she needs to know.
“I’d rather this stay between us. She has enough to deal with.”
“Your choice, my friend.”
“My people are very discreet. It will be like they’re not even there.”
“It has to be. I don’t want her to think we’re being followed. I want things to be as normal as possible.”
“Thank you Dexter,” I tell him, before reaching for the door.
“There may be another way, where you don’t have to live like this,” he says casually.
“What other way?”
“It would come with some risks…”
Cal
April 16th 2011
Same dream almost every night, one I wish I could get away from. The woman’s pale white skin contrasts against the pool of red blood surrounding her, soaking her clothes and mine. The little boy, who cried for hours before someone found him. I used to wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through me. But now I’ve grown immune to it, at least that’s what I’ve tried to convince myself. I tell myself I’m not affected, that this dream isn’t as terrifying as it used to be. But how can I forget the woman and child when I’m still tormented by my own cries and panic nearly suffocates me?
Something has changed. I look at the woman lying beside me, and everything is better. So why do I feel worse? Before her I never wanted kids or a family, to be so close to someone that their loss would feel worse than this recurring dream. I love her, and love interferes with my only cure. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to love anyone but myself. The only feeling I ever wanted was revenge. Revenge and pleasure—nothing more, nothing less. For me they are one and the same, an obsession that became an addiction. But this—her arms wrapped around me and her breath on my skin—feels like peace. Peace and vengeance don’t work well together, having one sacrifices the other.
She’ll graduate soon, going onto the next chapter in her life. I feel like the chapter is about to be closed on me. She’s not sure what she wants to do after school. She talks about getting a job, but she’s hated every place she’s interviewed for. She’s about to jump into the cycle I loathe—work for pennies, buy a house you really never liked, and just get older and more miserable as each year passes. She should travel, see the world and draw it on that sketch pad of hers. I want her to see the places I was able to see once I broke free. Paris, Rome, the Alps, I’ve been around the world and back. She deserves the same; she deserves everything she wants. The problem is she wants me, and I want her more than anything I have ever wanted. But she doesn’t really know what having me means. I went to the jeweler Dexter uses, and bought one of the most expensive rings they had. But I haven’t given it to her, what's stopping me is the fact that I love her, and I know her. I know that she wants marriage, but not the kind that I can give her. She wants children, she wants someone that she can grow old with. A normal guy, and normal’s just not me.
Then why do you have the ring?
“Good morning,” she says, running her hand through my hair, her eyes barely open.
“You still have two hours to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, cupping my face.
“Nothing,” I tell her playfully before rolling on top of her. She laughs.
“It looks like your mind is somewhere else,” she says looking at me earnestly.
“Just thinking about how I want to take you to Europe,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes playfully.
“Yeah right.” She doesn’t believe me, but when I tilt my head and look her into her hypnotizing eyes they widen.
“Are you serious?” she asks, and I feel her excitement growing by the second.
“Your graduation present,” I tell her and she pushes me off her.
“I-I can’t go to Europe with you,” she says, and I have to hide how much her words sting. They’re stern and like a kick in the nuts. I try to think of something to say to brush it off.
“You’d rather have fun here hanging out at Navy Pier?” I joke, nudging her in the side. She sighs and looks back at me, her eyes big and sad.
“Sometimes I wonder if this is all real,” she says quietly.
“What do you mean?” I ask, getting up and sitting next to her.
“I know I’ve already told you this but, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
“I’m one of a kind,” I wink at her and a small smile appears on her face.