by Stella Noir
Venetia snorts and my eyes shoot to her face, which is looking at me like I?mthe most pathetic thing on the planet.
“You really are clueless,” she realizes and I just give her a blank stare. Dylan’s hands find my shoulders as if sensing I mean to escape them both, and he roots me firmly into place, preventing me from running off.
“Don’t you think Dylan is a little different?” Venetia taunts me, coming closer and snarling in my face. I look around the room quickly and see Love whimpering in the corner, too scared to do a thing.
So much for a watch dog.
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling confused. It feels like they’re playing a game of cat and mouse with me, and eventually, I’m just going to get eaten. Why prolong it? I pose a bitter question in my mind, but am not brave enough to say it out loud.
“Don’t you think I smell a little different,” Dylan whispers in my ear and I shudder when his hot, smelly breath hits my skin and nose. “Look a bit off … act like I’m not quite … myself?”
I turn around abruptly until we’re face to face, and our eyes connect as my heart beats out of tune. But before I have a chance to react, Dylan presses his lips against mine so hotly I nearly fall backwards.
His kiss isn’t gentle or sweet. It’s just taking from me, anything he can get, using me, taunting me, claiming me. He pushes his tongue inside my mouth and takes all that is in me, as if sucking my soul out through my mouth.
I try to fight him off but he grabs my wrists, holding them away from his body so I can’t pound it. Finally, I bite down hard on his tongue, and he moves away.
But he doesn’t curse, or even smack me for doing that. What he does instead scares the living daylights out of me.
Still clutching my wrists, Dylan throws his head back and laughs like a maniac. A small trail of blood trickles down his chin and he looks me straight in the eye as he licks it, lapping up the dark liquid.
Before I can react, I make a connection in my mind. The dark red, almost black thickness of his blood reminds me of something else … The stains I found in the sink.
I gasp softly.
“Who-whose is the blood?” I ask, my voice trembling as they both look at me with manic smiles. “Whose blood is in the sink?”
My eyes travel down to Dylan’s hands which are still clutching my wrists, and another awful realization hits me. “Who did you hurt?” I let out a pained whisper.
Chapter 52
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Venetia smirks in my direction, not even denying that they have indeed hurt someone. My heart starts pounding even louder, demanding for me to take action. But what on Earth am I supposed to do? They’re going to take me down if I so much as make a sound.
But then, an unexpected courage brews inside me, and I make a run for the door. One second, I’m standing between Venetia and Dylan, and in the next, I jump between them, fast and able on my legs.
Thank God I’ve always loved jogging, because my speed might just be the thing that saves me today. And of course, knowing the house like the back of my hand speaks to my advantage as well.
Knowing that, I make a run for the backyard, remembering a story from last year as my heart pounds loudly in my ear. Our house is surrounded by a fence and then some bushes, which are thick and thorny, and anyone would’ve been unable to get through them.
Except last year, someone did.
It was some woman whom Matthew’s company fired, after which she became completely obsessed with my boyfriend. She followed us around, and finally, one night, broke into the house.
Later, when she had been taken away – thankfully we caught her before she could hurt us or herself – the police explained how she had gotten in through a hole she dug under the bushes.
After that, we meant to get that fixed, but it was one of those things we kept forgetting about, until eventually it just went unnoticed. Today, I’m suddenly thankful for that crazy woman, because she might have just saved my life.
I rush through the French doors in the kitchen before they even realize what’s going on, heading for the shelter of the thick, leafy trees in the back. I hear them shouting and screaming behind me, and a few times, a hand almost snatches me up. So I go even faster, forcing myself to my limit until I finally reach the trees.
My heart pounding, I hide between the leaves and thank my lucky stars they’re so leafy at the moment, and dusk has fallen too, which means I’m doubly concealed.
I try not to make a sound and try to tune out everything that happened. The time for questions will come, but right now, I have to take care of my own safety, first and foremost.
I hear them running behind me until they’re in the thicket of trees, only a few feet away from me. I climb up one of the strong ones, an old oak, and hide in the thicket. No one would think you could get up one of these trees, but since I’ve lived here for a while, I know exactly which branch to hold to get up and hide between its leaves.
It’s a wonder they don’t spot me from my heartbeat alone, and as I stand in the branches, I realize just how scared I am. I’m on the verge of tears, my dress stained with not only wine, but now dirt and green grass from falling over.
And I’m not thinking of myself. I’m thinking of Love, and seriously wishing she got out of there okay. Because if those two bastards did something to my dog, I will hurt both of them. Badly.
I realize I need to stay hidden for the time being, knowing that if I come out of the trees and head for the bushes, I will be more vulnerable and easier to see. My position is uncomfortable and I’m incredibly afraid of having a panic attack, so I try to distract myself as best as I can.
What the hell is actually going on?
Dylan isn’t himself, I just know it. It’s not only the way he’s acting, the manic laughter, the way he’s apparently working with Venetia. It’s also that strange smirk, when there always used to be a grin. It’s the scars that mark his back, which I know for a fact weren’t there before.
With impending doom descending upon me, I realize something.
That man is not Dylan.
I don’t have an explanation for it, I really don’t. He looks exactly like him, and he has to be him … But deep inside me, I know he isn’t. He is a different person, and even though I can’t think of a logical explanation for it, I just know it’s true.
Just as I come to that realization, I hear them moving under the trees again.
“Did you find her?” the not-Dylan spits out angrily, his words still slurred because of all the alcohol he consumed before all of this started.
“Fuck,” Venetia curses loudly, and I hear her kicking the dirt beneath her feet. I move a little so I can see them below me, knowing full well they could find me any moment now.
They’re standing beneath me, looking heatedly at each other.
“I can’t believe you fucked this up,” not-Dylan accuses his sister.
“ME?!” she yells incredulously, stepping forward like she’s going to slap him. She seems to change her mind though, and retreats, but she is still snarling at him. “You’re the one who let her slip through your fingers, Marc.”
Marc? Who the hell is Marc?
“Oh yeah, at least it was the first time for me, and it’s happened to you twice before,” he mocks her before I have time to think over what they’re talking about.
“Shut up,” she snarls back at him. “I’m not going to take this from you …”
She steps closer to him and I can see her mouth twist up in a cruel smile. “You owe me, remember, brother?” she asks him sweetly, the venom just dripping from her voice as she speaks.
I have no idea what is going on here. She called him brother, yet she used a different name, so he can’t very well be Dylan. I lean in closer, trying to catch more of their conversation.
He doesn’t reply though, which makes me even more curious. What the hell is she holding over this man to make him do all these things?
Just then, a branch cracks under me
and my blood freezes in my veins. Instantly, Dylan – Marc’s – and Venetia’s eyes shoot upward, and their gazes find me hidden in the trees.
“In there!” Venetia shouts and points for Marc to get me.
Before I have time to react, he’s already climbing the tree clumsily, trying to come for me. My heart pounding, I realize there’s only one way to escape now.
I jump down from the tree.
When I land, I hear my ankle crack under me and I yelp in pain. I know I’ve surely broken it, because I can’t seem to be able to put any weight on it. But I gather every last ounce of strength in my body, putting weight on my other leg and moving as fast as I can to the bushes.
My ankle is pounding, and I can hear them screaming their heads off behind me, but even with my broken ankle, I’m still too fast for them. I think the adrenaline takes over in that moment, because the pain isn’t even that bad anymore.
I rush for the bushes, finding the spot where that woman made her way in. Dropping to my knees, I scrape them in the process on the rocky ground. But I know this is my last chance to make it out of here alive.
Venetia let me get away one too many times, and her call for blood is too strong now … She wants my blood smeared on her hands – I know only my death will satisfy that sick woman at this point.
I slide under the bushes, finding the hole thick with weeds and rocks with dirt which seem to have gathered there since last year. I almost start crying with frustration, trying to jam my body between the bush and the ground, but finally, the weeds start to give way and I push my way through.
“Marc!” I hear Venetia yelling behind me, so close it scares me even more, making my process of trying to get out of there even more frantic. “Get over here, you idiot!”
I don’t stay to hear what she says. I finally dig my way to the other side, and already, I’m pushing one hand out of the hole on the other side of the bushes. My head is about to follow, when I feel something grip on tightly to my hair.
“Got you now, bitch,” Venetia snarls behind me, and I realize with horror she’s grabbed a handful of my hair. Pulling hard until I yell out in pain, she tries yanking me backwards to prevent me from going back.
I realize I only have two options – let her pull me back or try to get away for one last time. And though I may not have known this about myself only months ago, I now realize I’m a fighter. And I’m not going to let some crazy bitch kill me in the backyard of my own house.
With an animalistic yell, I pull as hard as I can against her hair as she screams in shock. I feel an incredibly sharp pain in my scalp and I realize she must’ve pulled some of my hair out.
But none of it matters, not even the blood that I can feel trickling down my neck in the next second, because I’ve managed to break free.
I pull myself out of the hole with a grunt and I make a run for it. They don’t know this – hopefully – but I have to go around to the front of the house to get to the street. So I run as fast as I can, the adrenaline rushing through my veins and heat flashing through my body.
I come to the front of the house and I can’t hear them at all, which scares me to no end. But then I see something that makes my heart lift immediately.
There’s that police car, the one Andrews sent to my house to keep an eye on me. I motion wildly as I run towards it, but the officer inside seems to be asleep and doesn’t notice me at all.
I try to be as quiet as possible as I open the door on the passenger’s side of the car, sitting down. “Oh, thank God,” the words rush out of my mouth. “Where were you?! They attacked me, they were going to kill me.”
My arms flail around as I finally get a good look at the man sitting in the driver’s seat. He has dark skin, and he’s quite handsome, out of his uniform. There’s a cup of coffee in the drink holder along with some pastries, but he doesn’t reach for them or make a motion to help me.
Finally, I nudge him impatiently, and when I do, his body slides to the side.
My arms fly up to my mouth in shock, but I notice too late they’re smeared with blood. I turn the man’s face towards me, which is when I finally see his glassy eyes and realize he’s dead.
The blood in the sink.
Marc’s stained hands.
He killed this man … He killed an innocent person just so Venetia could get her revenge.
Finally, I hear the voices around the corner, knowing they’re coming closer. Panicking, I climb in the back of the car and hide on the floor in the backseat, my heart pumping blood through my veins. I’m very well aware of the fact that if they see me now, I won’t be able to escape … not again.
I hear the commotion outside, hear them shouting at one another.
I stay in the car with the dead man as silent tears fall down my eyes. I don’t move, not even after I know they’re gone, not only because of the absence of their voices, but because I can feel it in my heart, too.
When they finally find me, they have to drug me to get me out of that car, the smell of death and blood thick on my skin.
Chapter 53
I’m in a state of shock for a long time, or at least so they tell me. When they get me out of the car, I’m like the walking dead, moving only when they tell me to. The stench of death remains in my nose for days afterward.
Finally, I end up in the same psychiatric unit I was in when Matthew died. They stitched up my head, a large chunk of the skin in the back missing from where Venetia pulled hard at my scalp. My ankle turns out to have a small fracture, but I only get it wrapped up tightly.
I’m so paranoid they’ll come after me again I don’t let them give me a cast, thinking it would only slow me down when they come for me again.
And that is one thing I’m certain of – Venetia and Marc aren’t done with me … at all.
I’ve been in the hospital for days, and finally, after a long time, they start weaning me off the drugs I’ve been ingesting. My hazy mind gets clearer and clearer each day, and finally, I’m stable enough to want answers. More than that – I demand them.
Of course, they send Andrews to see me. Why they haven’t taken him off this case yet is a mystery to me, since he has proven to be incompetent so many times. I guess that is how things work, though.
He looks at me with genuine concern when he comes in, presenting me with a bouquet of pretty flowers, which I unfortunately saw in the hospital gift shop that morning, which makes them seem like more of an afterthought, not a genuine get-well-soon wish.
I accept them nonetheless and a nurse places them in a vase before discreetly leaving the room, leaving Andrews and I alone, my head bursting at the seams with all the unanswered questions.
I start with the obvious one.
“Have you caught them?” I ask anxiously, my heart pounding as I wait for his response. But I already know what it will be before he even makes a move. I know I would feel it in my heart if it were any different.
Embarrassed, Andrews shakes his head no. “They’re hiding somewhere, holed up. We have our best men on the case,” he tries to console me, but nothing he will say will make me feel any better.
I know I’m in danger and it makes me so scared, knowing they’re still out there, and surely planning how to finally hurt me and get rid of me once and for all.
“We did have a good trail on them,” he says finally. “We found an old abandoned building … They had their stuff in there, some traces led us to it and we discovered a lot of-”
“I don’t care about any of that!” I yell, feeling more than a little frustrated. “I want to know what’s going on. Why aren’t you able to get them? Venetia’s tried to kill me two times that we know of.”
Andrews clears his throat awkwardly. “Make that three,” he says with embarrassment, then elaborates when I give him a blank look. “You were poisoned again. Probably would have died had you consumed a bigger amount …”
I think back to the day when we were having dinner with Marc, the day everything went down. I remember him tel
ling me to drink the wine … and I immediately condemn myself for being so stupid.
I fell for the same trick – twice.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper more to myself than to him.
An awkward silence descends upon us and I’m about to start asking more questions, when Andrews speaks up again. “We did find something at the house,” he says finally, giving me a soft look, so unusual for him.
My heart immediately falls and I look at him in confusion. “W-what did you find?” I ask, already dreading his answer.
But what he says turns my world around immediately, and I know there’s so much more to this story I don’t know yet … but I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.
“We found a man,” he says softly, quietly, and I almost have to strain myself to hear him.
“Who?” I ask anxiously.
He looks me straight in the eye, telling me what I fear and want to know the most.
“We found Dylan, Lola,” he finally admits.
*
“What do you mean, you found Dylan?” I ask, my heart pounding, begging for him to finally give me some good news. It can’t be though – Dylan was with me since he has been out of the hospital … And Andrews spoke of him as if he were still on the run.
The whole situation is making my head hurt and I have no idea what is going on anymore, so I just end up giving Andrews a pained look.
“Why don’t we go see him and he will explain everything himself?” Andrews offer and I find myself nodding eagerly, desperate to put this all behind me and finally get some answers.
As if on cue, a nurse comes in with a wheel chair which I get into with a lot of help from both her and Andrews. Finally, when I’m sitting comfortably, he places a blanket on my lap and gives me a gentle look.
As much as I can’t stand the man, at least Andrews will always take care of me … He did always have a crush on me, even though I told him plenty of times nothing is going to come out of that.
He wheels me to another floor of the hospital, taking the elevator. I barely register us moving, because I’m too busy in my mind and my heart is currently beating a thousand times per minute, making it difficult to breathe.