“Do you still not remember anything from that time? How you got that scar?”
“No. I don’t remember anything that happened in that place.” I’ve lied about it for so many years that the words pour out on their own. It’s the only thing I’ve ever lied about in therapy. The only thing I never want to talk about. So, I’ve been sticking to my lie. I don’t remember anything. The truth is, I could never forget.
The smell of alcohol and mold fills every room in this house. I’ve only been here for a few days, but it feels like much longer, every second in this place feels like an eternity. This is supposed to be a home for children, a safe place for me, and the other foster children to stay. There is nothing safe about this place.
My stomach growls so loud it hurts. I haven’t eaten anything today, which is nothing out of the ordinary. I scour the kitchen for food, hoping that no one finds me. When I see the old granola bar wedged between empty cartons in the bottom of the pantry, I almost cry out in joy.
Grabbing the bar as fast as I can, I tuck it into the waistband of my jeans. However hungry I am, I know there is someone else here who needs food more than I do.
On tiptoes, I sneak up the stairs, avoiding the steps that I know creak. I go to the room at the end of the hallway, our room. Opening the door quietly, I hope not to wake him, but he still opens his eyes as much as he can to look at me as I enter the room. They’re only open a sliver, both eyes too swollen from the beating he took before I got here.
“Hey, William,” I whisper. Careful not to move the mattress too much, I crawl back into the spot beside him. “Found you some food. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
I hand him the granola bar, and he just stares at it for a long time. He’s barely talked to me since I arrived, and I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to or simply because he is in so much pain. He looks like he would be in a terrible amount of pain. His whole face is black and blue, swollen and scratched all over.
“You need to eat too,” he finally says, handing me back the bar.
“How about we share?” I ask while opening the plastic wrapper. He sighs as if he doesn’t want me to fight him on this, but then he still nods.
Taking out the bar, I break a piece off and hand it to him. Then I break an even tinier piece off for me and start nibbling on it. Most people would probably take less than thirty seconds to eat this, but we take our time. Enjoying every morsel, chewing until there is nothing left. Swallowing until each bit heavily lands in our empty stomachs.
When we’re done, I hide the wrapper underneath the mattress and lie down next to him. The house is eerily quiet, which is not a good thing, maybe the calm before the storm. I close my eyes and feel around between our bodies until I find his hand. I grab it and revel in the feeling of his fingers intertwined with mine. Then I say a silent prayer, hoping that no one will come into our room tonight.
6
No matter what I do, I can’t stop staring at the picture from the envelope. I don’t understand why Christian would want Dove dead… how did she possibly end up on his list? Is he on to me? Watching me? Watching Dove?
I’ve grown more and more agitated over the last twenty-four hours. It has to be because of me. I just don’t see why else she could be a target, but if it is because of me, why give me the job? Is it a test? Is he making me choose between him and her? Because no matter what, I’m always going to choose Dove.
Grinding my teeth together so hard it hurts, I look at the screen of my phone that shows me her apartment. She’s sitting on the couch, curled up with a book. Not the slightest idea of the danger she is in and how drastically her life is about to change.
My head hurts from thinking about all of this. No matter how much I dig through my mind, I can’t seem to find a single clear-cut answer. I better get my shit together fast because I only have three days to figure everything out.
It’d taken everything in me not to kidnap her last night and take her to the safe house I’ve prepared for a situation like this. I always feared that it would come to this, I just never thought it would happen this way.
I’m still ready to go, but disappearing now would put my name on top of the hitlist. No one walks away from Christian Sergio. I’m not sure what the fuck I should do next.
I need a plan. I can’t go to Christian and question why Dove is on the list, not without giving myself away.
I’ve never questioned the people on the lists he gives me because, honestly, I’ve never given a fuck about any of those people. But I don’t just give a fuck about Dove, she is my entire fucking world. I exist because of her. If anything were to happen to her… every muscle in my body tightens, and for one brief moment, darkness overtakes me. No. I won’t let anything happen to her. I’ll kill them all, every single one of them.
Exiting the app, I move to my contacts and scroll through them. The way I see it, I’m going to have to grab one of Christian’s men and torture them until they tell me everything they know.
I’m already going to be number one on his shitlist when he finds out in three days that Dove isn’t dead. Killing one of his men isn’t going to hurt me anymore than not doing the job, so I might as well fucking do it.
Hitting the green call key, I bring the phone to my ear. The phone rings three times before Billy’s deep voice fills the line.
“Hey, fucker!” Fucker? Who does he think he is talking to?
Swallowing my dislike for the guy, I ask, “Hey, Bill, want to grab a drink?”
“You know I can never pass on a chance to have some whiskey or beer.”
I’ve never heard a truer statement in my life. Billy is half-drunk all the time, and when he isn’t drinking, he’s beating his wife.
“Let’s meet at Oscars in about thirty?”
“I’ll be there, Zane.”
I hang up the phone without a goodbye. Billy is an easy target since he is nothing but a tech guy. That’s what he does for the mob. Finds out information through hacking computers and cellphones. If anyone is going to know something, it’s going to be him.
Clicking back into the app on my phone, I allow myself to check on Dove one last time. She’s still sitting on the couch, immersed in her book. Without thought, I find myself stroking the screen, wishing I could touch her, taste her, feel her body against mine. I want her so badly it almost kills me. Not yet. I tell myself.
Closing the app once more, I shove my phone into my pocket and drive in the direction of Oscars. Since the hit was placed, I’ve been more cautious, looking over my shoulder, carrying an extra gun. I can’t risk something happening to me and then Dove being put at risk because of it. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. Worked my ass off to make sure Dove had the life she deserved, and now it’s all crumbling around me.
Part of me hates myself for what I’m going to have to do while the other part of me wouldn’t have it any other way. Dove is the one and only person I’m ever conflicted over. I refuse to hurt her, but my obsession with her can’t be sated. I want her beside me. I want to be inside her whenever and wherever I want. For the first time ever, I want to be able to let go completely, but with only her.
Pulling into the shitty bar’s parking lot, I suppress the thoughts of Dove and me sharing a future together. That can’t happen if I don’t get the answers I need. Which means… I need to let go. As easy as flipping a light switch off and on, I let my emotions go. Getting out of the SUV, I walk across the parking lot, the rocks crunching beneath my boots.