The following day Marcus is still here, still in my house. I wake and know I have to move because I need to go to work.
I run on autopilot—find clothes, brush hair, apply makeup, get ready, leave.
“Are you going to work?” Marcus asks, walking in dressed, and holding two cups of coffee in his hands.
“I need to go to work,” I reply, taking one and looking at the logo. “This is the coffee house of the guy’s hand you were removing,” I say, looking down at it. “Find any other suitable people in there today?”
“Pretty girl…” he warns.
“Whatever! I have to go.”
“Tanika’s body was found. She’s coming to me tomorrow.” I pause at the door, my keys now in hand. “I’ll take care of her. Do you wish to see her?”
My hands sweat as they hold the coffee and keys. Words for some reason cannot leave my mouth.
“Rochelle…” My name. Marcus has never called me that before. It’s always pretty girl.
Not looking back, not saying a word, I leave and head straight to work.
Martin is already there when I arrive. Which is a surprise, because he’s never there before me.
“You’re here,” Martin says, surprised, while looking up over his glasses.
“You’re in?” I ask, looking directly at the clock.
Martin shakes his head. “Dave has become quite painful. Seems he’s worse than the men he was going after.”
“What do you mean?”
“He destroyed my car last night. I had to call the police on him. Then I woke up to this.” He pushes his cell toward me. There is a picture of his house on the screen, the words ‘YOU’RE NEXT’ are painted in red across the front. I shake my head and look up at him. The poor man is sweating profusely, his brows are furrowed, and worry is etched all over his face.
“Go to the police.”
“I will. But, Rochelle, if you see him, I want you to stay as far away as you can, and call the police immediately.”
“Yes, of course.”
Martin nods, happy with my answer. “How was your weekend? It was your birthday, right?”
“My friend jumped off the town bridge and killed herself.” I turn, taking his empty coffee mug to fill it when I hear him gasp.
Marcus doesn’t wait at my car, instead he comes straight into the office the minute I finish at five. Martin looks up through his office entrance, then pays Marcus no attention once he sees who’s here.
“I can get myself home,” I tell Marcus, turning the computer off and reaching for my bag.
“I know you can, but I thought I’d prepare you. Your family is at yours, waiting for you.”
A heavy sigh leaves my mouth. “I can’t deal with them.”
“You can come to mine,” he says without missing a beat.
“Marcus.”
“Mm-hmmm,” he answers.
“You should stop now.”
“Stop what?” he asks, clearly confused.
“You should stop helping. The more you do, the more I’m falling for you.” I watch as his body goes rigid at my words. “See, you don’t even know you’re doing it. That’s what makes it worse. And Marcus…” I say, stepping up to him like he does to me. “I can’t take another heartache. You will destroy me.”
“I would never—”
I don’t give him time to answer fully, cutting him off as I walk past him and go straight to my car. Without looking back, I head home. My mother’s out the front waiting for me when I arrive.
I look behind me wondering if I should reverse back out, when she knocks on my window, then opens my car door. “Why haven’t you called?” She pulls me, and I get out of the car. Her hands wrap around my body as she holds me tightly to her. “The police stopped by again. Said something about an assault. Wanted to know if you had any information.” I freeze at her words while Tanika’s words from that night come back to haunt me.
“Roch,” Kat yells from my door.
My mother hugs me tighter before she finally lets me go. “I’m here for you, you know that, right? And so is that man. He’s here for you, too.”
“Marcus?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, he was here before. He’s been here all weekend?” I can only nod as she starts walking with me to the house.
“What do you need?” my sister asks.
I look at Annabelle in her arms and take her. “Just this.” Beautiful Annabelle smiles and slaps my face with her little hands. And then it hits me—Tan will never get to experience this.
And maybe, neither will I.
Marcus comes back, and I don’t expect him. And when he climbs into my bed later that night, he wraps himself around me, and I cry. I sob until I no longer can, and when the tears stop, I turn to him.
Marcus brushes my hair from my face. “I don’t like to see you hurting.”
“Hurt is a part of life,” I reply.
“I can make it go away. Even if it’s just for a while, I can make it go away.” He leans over and kisses my lips. “Do you want me to make it go away?”
“Yes,” I answer almost desperately.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I respond, this time wrapping my hands around his head and pulling his lips to mine.
Marcus takes control, he always does. His lips scorch mine and his hands devour my body, stripping me bare with each touch.
One touch—legs spread.
Second touch—sliding in.
Third touch—euphoria.
My eyes bleed with love, and I know in that exact moment as he tries to take my pain away the only way he knows how, that I love him.
Dragging kisses along my neck, then biting, he pushes in harder, as if he can hear what I’m thinking.
“I love you,” I whisper into his ear.
Marcus pushes in harder and fucks me faster, not saying a word in response. I didn’t think he would, but for some reason I had to get it off my chest. I had to tell him.
Clinging to him, I let him take me. I give him what he needs while he takes all I have left. And it leaves me in a state of bliss with no thoughts running rampant in my head.
Marcus did what he said he would do, and I had to go and utter the words I never thought I would. When he comes, he stays on top of me, then looks down. Something has changed in his eyes, but I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to find out either. Turning around, I pull the covers up and go to sleep.
I don’t dream about death.
Instead, I dream of heartache.
This time I wake before Marcus does. His face is pressed against my pillow as he lightly snores. I reach for his curls, brushing them back. He moves but doesn’t wake. One of his legs is under the sheet while the other is out, showcasing his perfectly sculptured ass. Reaching for my cell phone, I flick to the last pictures that were taken, which are of Tan and me from a few weeks ago. She was doing so well, so fucking well. And now? Now, I don’t even know what to do or how to function in a world without her in it.
Death has many faces.
Some are beautiful.
Some are evil.
But they all lead down the same road.