Except, in prison, sometime there was no light at all, so I don’t care.
Finally, we reach the apartment almost at the end of the hall, and Rafe twists the locks. “Don’t pay attention to the mess.” And we step inside with him flicking the light on, and my jaw almost drops to the floor.
Because there is no way in hell I can’t pay attention to that!
First thing that comes into view is the small living room connected to the kitchen by its alcove-like counter, where countless food boxes are spread between it and the living room coffee table.
Clothes are spread all over the couch, the TV has several stains on the screen that look like ketchup, and the sink is full of dirty dishes, although for what I have no clue. Based on the picture presented to me, it seems all he does is order takeout.
The buzzing of the refrigerator echoes around the apartment while the spoiled smell of trash floats in the air, making the previous smells pale in comparison.
I see a small hallway leading to three more rooms, and Rafe explains before I can ask. “One of them is a bathroom.” Dread fills me when I imagine what I will encounter there if the guy doesn’t bother with the other parts of his apartment, and he sends me a sheepish smile. “I’m really sorry about the mess. I just had midterms, so you know.”
He’s a student? Sara never mentioned that about him. The only thing she kept saying about her brother was that he’s very smart, and if only he used his brains wisely, he could have gone places.
But if he studies at the university, what other places does she want him to go?
“Oh. What degree?”
“Computer science.”
I tease him. “So you’re a wizard when it comes to technology.”
Amusement along with something else flashes in his eyes, but it’s so quickly gone I don’t have time to catch it. “You can say that. Or learning to be.”
“Good luck.” I suddenly feel so tired that I want to either sit or lie down and not think about anything. Even the mess I’ll probably clean shortly—because I’m a germ freak and won’t be able to function around all of it.
Not to mention the smell. Freedom shouldn’t smell like this.
“Where is my room?”
He face-palms his forehead before saying, “First room.” He takes out the keys from his pocket, and they dangle loudly in the room. “Sara has a rule not to enter it. I didn’t touch it, but she has clean sheets in the second drawer and some clothes too.” He scans me from head to toe, biting his lower lip. “I think you’re about the same size.”
Right.
As humiliating as it is, I don’t have any changes of clothes, and unless I have some cash on hand, I will have to borrow some of hers.
Thank you, Sara.
I walk toward it, inserting the key, when he calls, “Phoenix.” I turn my head to him as he leans on the counter, not caring how the ketchup smears his elbow. “Do you have money?”
Will that be a deal breaker? I should have known when I was about to get some shut-eye this would happen. Something always throws a curve ball my way as if to remind me there is no peace for me. “No.”
He nods in acknowledgment as if he expected as much. “Since you are short on cash and don’t have any shit, would you like to bartend?”
“Bartend?” I ask, a bit surprised with his proposition.
He shrugs. “I got a different gig this month with online freelancing and it pays me more than bartending, but I figured you could use a job. I spoke with Herb, the owner, and he doesn’t mind. As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“I do,” I say quickly, thinking it’s almost too good to be true, so I should grab the offer with both hands and hold on to it. “I bartended back in college.” Among other things, to afford stuff.
I think at some point people asked me if I slept at all since they saw my face at the coffee shop in the morning and at the bar in evenings.
He smiles brightly, clapping his hands together. “Then it’s settled. You will start tomorrow.” He spins around and then curses under his breath, tearing a tissue from the box and wiping his elbow, but stops when I tell him, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Ah, darling. How could I not? We all need a bit of help sometimes.”
Entering the room, I shut the door behind me and lean on it while seeing a bed, one dresser, and a table along with the wardrobe laid out in it—neatly, not that I expected anything else from Sara.
And in this moment, I slide down to my ass, hiding my head between my knees as tears stream down my cheeks; the only proof I’m alive.
We all need a bit of help sometimes.
Isn’t that the truth? Even if this help comes from strangers who most of the world would have never trusted.
I get a second chance in this life.
And I intend to use it wisely, doing my best to help catch the serial killer by integrating all the professional expertise I possess.
But not because I want justice for what was done to me, even though that’s important too.
No, I want justice for my little girl.
My little girl who didn’t survive the indifference this society demonstrated to me.
Zachary
The car pulls up by the rusty building, the walls so cracked it’s a wonder it hasn’t crumbled at our feet yet, and I press the button, allowing the window to slide down.
My whole attention is zeroed in on the woman standing on the balcony on the fifth floor, her dark hair blowing in different directions while she gulps for breath over and over again as if she can’t get enough fresh air in her lungs.
She’s wearing a simple white shirt that probably does nothing to protect her from the cold air, but her laughter echoing through the night can attest to the fact that she doesn’t mind.
Her striking brown eyes smeared in pain and permanent sorrow are invisible to me from this distance, but I’ve memorized them from countless videos and photos I’ve seen of her.
Does her laughter reflect in her pools now, washing away the grief I did my best to inflict on her?
Or does the invisible knife I tore through her heart three and a half years ago when I took away her daughter still draw blood and bring her agony?
“Boss,” James, my driver, says and looks at me over his shoulder. “We’re here. Should I wait for you or—” He gives the place a glance. “—or are you going to stay the night?”
An amused chuckle almost slips past my lips at the implication of his words. Does he think Phoenix is one of my countless women who help me fulfill my need for sex, which my body craves, yet my heart and soul stay cold in the process?
Whoever says that one can suffer in silence is right, but even the suffering cannot shut off the basic needs of the human body.
Although James’s surprise is valid, since all the woman gracing my bed live in one of the most expensive parts of New York, belonging to Manhattan’s elite. Some of them have even flashed their faces for various magazines due to their fame.
None of them needed Zachary King to elevate their statues in life, yet all of them wanted me to become something more than their bed partner despite me making my stance clear multiple times.
Love happens once in a lifetime, and I’ve already loved in this life. So what’s the point of starting a relationship with anyone when it won’t go any further? What a waste of my time, but more importantly, the woman’s.