I screw up my brows at Beth. "So what does that mean then?"
She shrugs. "Maybe your ex wants you alive."
"Why would he want me alive?" I ask as I turn away from her.
Beth stares at me. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? You won't even tell me what he did to make you testify against him. Like I said before, tell me everything about your life—the good and the bad—and I might be able to help you shed light on this messed-up situation like no one has before."
My eyes dance around the limited space of my scarcely decorated bedroom. I've kept it bare and dull this way for a long time. I never wanted this place to feel like home.
"I know you think you're protecting me by keeping me out of the loop," Beth says, "but I'm telling you we’re beyond that point. Whoever that guy is out there, I'm on his list now too."
A sigh comes out of me thick and fast. "So I'm just supposed to tell you everything about my screwed-up life, am I? What good does that even serve? You'll think less of me than you already do."
"No, I won't. We are trapped inside this house because of your ex. He's had complete control over this entire ordeal from the first minute. If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Simple as that."
"He's torturing me before he gives the order for that man to squeeze the trigger. I know it."
"But why has this man outside waited so long to do something? I don't mean to be so bleak, but it just seems like it wouldn't be that hard for a hired killer to get the job done. Maybe this guy has been told not to harm us."
I shrug. "Maybe. It does kind of feel like we've been deliberately scared into a corner. Or maybe this guy isn't a professional because Zach couldn't afford the kind of killer who'd get things done with more discretion."
"Maybe," Beth says. And I don’t think she believes me.
I close my eyes and place my head back against the wall. I can't take much more of this hell. Why can't Zach just end it all now?
Beth sits down on the edge of my bed. "Let me in. Let me know the real you. Maybe I can make sense of what he is doing and put a stop to this."
I open my eyes and focus on Beth. Her words sound illogical but also, they don't. I'm close to considering what she's asking of me until I see the knife on the floor. I scoop it up in my hands and pull out the broken blade. It's still sharp. Enough to cut skin.
"What are you doing?" she asks as I pull myself away from the wall and head to the locked door.
I glance back over my shoulder. "Putting an end to this."
Chapter 27
A lot happens in a split second. We can make a decision, one that might alter our life in such a dramatic way that we never recover from it again. We all face these moments in our lifetimes whether or not we want to. It could be our own stupidity bringing us to the total chaos that is human existence or something beyond our control. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. Because deep down, I believe we are the masters of our fate, which sadly means one thing: our mistakes are no one else's but our own.
The first doorjamb comes off easily through a sheer delay in Beth's reaction time. She grabs hold of me by the shoulders before I get my hands on the other one, not giving me the courtesy of a free second.
I feel the floor come up beneath me harder than expected, causing me to roll on my side. My head slams into the mattress, but I maintain my grip on the broken knife.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asks me as she fixes the doorjamb. "He could have heard that."
"Good," I say. "I want him to know I'm coming for him. If he thinks he can burst into my house with a power drill and intimidate me, he will have to earn it."
"Have you lost your mind? You're talking about fighting a man hired by Zach. You put him away for life, remember?"
I don't answer.
"Well? You put him away, didn't you?" Beth asks again.
"You know I did," I spit out, doing little to contain my anger.
"Then you understand better than anyone that what you were about to do was suicide."
"Maybe. Maybe not," I sneer. I hear my own words, but they don't sound like they're coming from me.
Beth crosses her arms over her chest. "It was. I may not have the full story, but I've heard enough to understand you were about to go down with a fight."
I jump to my feet and shove the knife into my back pocket. "You don't know me!" I yell.
We both hold our firm gaze on one another, each breathing louder than is necessary. I hate yelling at Beth, but she's leaving me little choice. I can't stand anyone assuming they know who I am, that they can sum me up within a few moments, because I'm not just the weak coward they all see before them. They don't know what I've been through.
"Okay, maybe I don't know the real you, but you need to stop hiding behind that fake name of yours. Let someone in for a change. Let me help you, for God's sake."
I hold back on going right off at her for shoving me to the floor and realize she wants to learn everything about my past. Is it curiosity driving her forward, or genuine compassion? "Why?" I ask. "I don't deserve to be helped. I told you to leave when this all began with a clear warning. You should have listened."
Beth doesn't flinch. She doesn't even blink as she holds her gaze on mine. "What happened? What made you turn against your ex and send him away forever?"
The memory hits me in the gut like a bullet and keeps drilling. It rips through my veins and tears my skin apart like a fireball until it reaches my eyes and throws acid into each retina. The strength breaks from my bones as I fall into a heap and cry. I can't hold back another moment as I see two eyes condemn me to a life of suffering. Even if I wanted to tell Beth what happened, my mind won't allow me to speak.
She grips my shoulders again, but this time they don't grasp on tight to throw me aside. Beth wraps her arms around me. "Shh. It's okay," she says.
I try to push her away, but I fail to stop the comfort she provides. It's clear I need this. I've needed it for so long, but I don't deserve happiness or the right to feel human again, do I?
"It's okay," Beth says again.
If only she knew the truth.
Chapter 28
I don't know how much time passes with me in Beth's arms. It's most likely a few minutes ticking by in reality, but hours pass by in my fragile mind. Either way, I feel my body letting go of all the tension I've been carrying for the last five years.
"Open the door!" a male voice yells. Three loud bangs follow his demand.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter than they already are, trying to will the man away, but it does nothing to stop him yelling.
"I'm coming in," he says.
The attack is timed to perfection. He waited until Beth and I were at our most vulnerable to break down the weak barrier that exists between us. Can Zach see inside my room? Did he choose this moment to send in his goon, or did my stupidity screw me over one last time?
The cracking of the wood and cardboard splinters through any calm Beth had generated within me. We fly apart and rise to face the demon at our door. I lay wide eyes upon the pissed-off man in a suit who looks ready to rip us into little pieces.
Beth scampers away to the wall as he rushes in. I attempt to hold firm but feel a weakness overpower me. All I can do is watch while Beth charges at him and tries with all her might to defend the bedroom from this creep who has spent the last day watching us. She stops the second he produces a pistol from the small of his back and aims it square at her head.
"Don't move."
Beth doesn't. She holds her palms up while her lungs play catch up. "Please don't shoot," she whispers.
He doesn't reply to Beth's request and instead shifts target to me. "Hands up."
The reality of the situation finds me, forcing my body to comply. I raise my sweaty hands.
"Turn around, both of you."
We each shuffle a one-eighty to face the opposite direction. Is he moving to hit us over the head? Is he going to shoot while we turn our backs? I get my answer sooner than exp
ected.
"Place both of your hands down behind your backs."
I do as I'm told and feel a single gloved hand grab my wrists and pin them tight together. He has more strength in that one limb than I do in my arms and legs combined. The weakness takes over once again.
A second hand places a plastic zip tie over both of my wrists. From experience, I know that's what it is being employed to restrain me. Zach showed me how he used to secure key personnel inside the banks he robbed.
I realize that the man has placed his weapon away to secure my hands. If I communicate the fact to Beth, would she attack him again? I don't want her risking her life just for me though.
The moment passes once he moves onto Beth and secures her wrists tight the same way.
"What do you want from us?" she asks.
"You'll know soon enough," he says. "Now turn around and move out into the living room to the sofa. It's too squashed in here."
"For what?" Beth gets out, saying the words my mouth and tongue seem to be incapable of doing.
We are turned and shoved through the door. I feel the splinters of wood under my shoes crunching with each stride. The darkened hallway feels hard to navigate when bound like this, causing me to sway in my step and collide with a nearby wall.
"Stop screwing around," he says, prodding the gun into my spine. The weapon is back out and in play. I'm lucky Beth stopped me from charging at him with that broken knife. The damn thing almost got me killed.
The man's pistol fails to right my path, sending a strong arm out to grab my shoulder. He guides me through the hallway along with Beth and out into the living room. A quick shove sends me toward the sofa.
Beth and I settle next to each other as best we can, considering our hands are tied behind our backs. She doesn't take her eye off the man while I attempt to avoid his gaze.
"Don't move," he says as he paces to the front door. He opens the broken entry and digs himself into the electrical box that is fixed to the portico wall. I hate it being there all exposed the way it is. It's no wonder he was able to throw us into darkness so easily when all I can do is put a padlock on its flimsy door.
He activates the power to the house once again and the lights flicker into life. He comes back inside, closing the door behind him. "Much better," he says, taking a stool from the kitchen bench that is supposed to be a breakfast bar. Papers fall to the ground and scatter. Neither of us has ever used the seats for more than a place to stack junk.
He slides the stool across the floor. The man takes a seat and holds his firearm out, keeping us both still. I take in his image, trying my hardest to recall what he looks like should we survive this ordeal. He's just as Emilio described. Our attacker has cold blue eyes, thick brows, and a thin five o'clock shadow. He also has long brown hair that flows down to his neck. He is wearing a black suit with a light blue shirt and dark blue tie that all seems out of place on a good day, but I'm no expert.
"So," he says, shifting his attention between us. "Here we are."
"What do you want?" Beth asks, acting as the more confident spokesperson.
"Oh, you'll see," he says. "I promise."
Chapter 29
I feel myself shutting down with every moment that passes while I stare ahead at the long-haired man with the gun. I don't know what else to call him. He sits on the tall kitchen stool and keeps a firm grip on his weapon.
"Time to make a phone call," he says.
"How?" I ask. "You jammed the signal to the house."
A smile comes from his lips. "And what, you thought I wouldn't have a way to work around it?"
I get the sense he doesn't enjoy being asked questions, so I go silent, not liking the response he gave me.
"What about you?" he asks Beth. "Got any questions for me?"
"No," she says with a lowered head.
"Didn't think so. Now, let’s get down to business. It's going to be a long night otherwise." He removes himself from the stool and approaches us both. We shy away, each hoping not to be the center of his attention for any longer than we have to. Using the barrel of the pistol, he gently raises my chin up to his eye level.
"This has all been about you, just so we're on the same page," he says.
I don't argue with him. I know why we are here, with each person in the position they're supposed to be in.
"Funny to think how you could induce so much trouble." The gun moves aside from my chin and over my face as he brushes some of my hair out of my eyes. The cold metal scrapes against my skin.
"I'm not trying to cause anyone any problems, I swear it. And I'm sorry if I have."
The man laughs. "Bit late for that, sweetheart."
I know it is.
He stands tall again and steps away from me for a moment. "Now, as I was saying, this has all been about you from the second you received that gift yesterday. That's the way you like it to be though, isn't it. You may act otherwise, but I think you want all the attention focused on little old you and your pitiful existence."
"No. It's not like that. Why would I want any attention on me? I live in a house like this so I can escape the world I left behind."
"Is that so?" he says with a sneer.
"Yes."
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he moves over toward Beth. She lifts her head to see him coming and reels herself in and away from his approaching form. It does nothing to stop him.
"Shh, Beth, it's okay. Say, tell me, do you trust your housemate?"
"What?
"It's a simple question. Yes or no?"
"Why do you—?"
"Answer the damn question!" he yells, drawing closer.
"Yes," Beth says.
The man stands with a smirk. "That's good to know," he says as he returns the gun to the small of his back. "Guess it's time to make that call then."
Beth and I both look at each other. I see the confusion covering her eyes. She doesn't realize what will happen next. I understand all too well who the phone call will be to and why.
"I'll be back in a minute," he says with his cell placed against his cheek and his index finger raised to show he needs quiet.
The second he turns away, I whisper to Beth. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Who's he calling?"
I turn, squint at our captor. "Zach."
Beth doesn't reply. Instead we try to listen in on the private conversation happening in front of us, but it seems impossible to make sense of a single word.
"Why?" Beth asks.
I face her. "Why what?"
"Why is he calling your ex?"
My head drops, fighting against an invisible force. "To hear his next set of instructions, I suppose. This thing will only get worse before it gets better."
Beth wriggles in her chair, leaning closer. Her face shifts like the wind. "What did you do? What happened to cause all of this?"
Chapter 30
The conversation in front of me seems to be lasting longer than it should. But then again, conversations about your fate will always take longer in your mind than anything else. I try to focus on that and ignore Beth's question.
"Well?" Beth says. "Something crazy must have happened, right? You said so yourself that you are the reason Zach is serving a life sentence in prison. Tell me what he did to trigger such a reaction from you."
I lean over wishing I could squeeze the bridge of my nose tight. I don't want to look this somewhat naive girl in the eyes when I think about the past. "It's beyond complicated, Beth. Why do you need to know so badly?"
"Because, Marie, or whatever name you like to be called, we are about to meet our end if we don't find a way out of this. Tell me what happened. Maybe I can think of something to use to our advantage."
"I don't see how this could work."
"It's easy. I'll think of what to say to buy us some time. Right now, I've got nothing to gain this clown's attention. I'm simply collateral. Please, give me anything to work with here."
My pupils swap between Beth and the man
. "Okay. I'll try to force it out before he comes back. This won't be easy."
Her eyes light up a little. She needs this to keep her sanity levels afloat. I'm the reason we're in this mess. If I can brighten her life with my secrets before the end, so be it. I owe her that much at least. I hope she doesn't spit in my face when I get all of my story out.
"It started about six years ago when I met Zach. I was a bartender, of all things, in an upscale bistro in Long Beach, California."
We both check on our captor and see he is still busy. Beth nods for me to continue.
"During a shift, Zach came in and chatted me up. This was the first time we'd met, but he was so confident, I swear that he already knew me from somewhere else. We get to talking about a few things until I mention to him about the worst experience of my life I’d had the week before. I was at the nearby bank putting in my paycheck when three masked men came charging in the place armed with pistols and shotguns. Within minutes, the trio cleaned out the tills, took anything of value from the bank's customers and got the manager to open the main vault. They left moments later with a huge sum of money. From the grin on his face alone, I could see he was one of the three. He'd caught sight of me during the robbery and figured in his arrogance he'd track me down to hit on me. The bastard used the ID he’d stolen off me from my purse to find me."
"What did you do?" Beth asks.
"He intrigued me. Here was this young idiot around the same age as me who looked like a local surfer telling me he'd robbed the bank I was just in. I guess his claim impressed me despite my understanding of how pathetic the whole thing was."
"It happens," Beth says. "We've all wanted the bad boy from time to time."
"But I knew better. At least I should have. Fast forward a year and I'd been seeing this moron on and off while he continued to rob a bank every so often. I understood it was wrong for me to be with a man like that, but there was something about him that was different to the rest of the people in my life. He was the exact opposite person who everyone wanted me to associate myself with. Not to mention how passionate he could be when we were alone."
He's At Your Door: a gripping psychological thriller Page 9