by Claire Adams
I remembered sitting on my couch for hours, mindlessly flipping from channel to channel while I tried to keep myself from running over to the bakery to make sure that Chloe didn’t burn it down. My life was hell. I hated it. But that was over.
I pulled a duffel bag out of the closet and shuffled through my clothes. They were old, mostly things that I’d bought to cover up my body or collected over the years. I dressed for comfort, not style. I didn’t see any point in looking good. I wasn’t looking for a man. Now, I felt like spending a day at the spa and grinding my pores just to make sure that I was good enough for somebody as amazing as him. It wasn’t about hating myself, exposing my flaws, or easing my insecurities. I was happy with myself. I just wanted to make sure that he saw me at my best because that’s what he deserved.
My phone started vibrating when I was stuffing socks into the bag. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. “Hello?”
“How are you, Zoe?” Chloe sounded exhausted.
“I’m all right. How is the bakery? Anything interesting happen?”
“No, I’ve just been mixing batch after batch of cherry chocolate chip cookies.” I heard her take a puff of a cigarette.
“How was the morning rush?”
“Busy. The Sans crowd ordered half the store. I guess they’re having some sort of party for the launch of this new thing they’re selling.”
“What is it?”
“I wasn’t paying attention. It had a weird name. Paladin or—I don’t know. I wish you could come in and help me with some of these cookies. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stand up any longer.”
“No, I’ve decided that you’re on your own today. It’ll be good for you. Are you getting blisters yet?”
“You’re just paying me back for convincing you that Archer was wrong for you.”
“How did you even know I got back with him?”
“Because you would’ve been here by now.”
“I’m happy. Please be happy for me.”
“No,” she pouted. “I don’t trust it.”
“We’ve been through all of the reasons over and over. Why won’t you give it up?”
“Because he lost control when he was with Mr. Beetle.”
“In time, you’ll understand.” I laid down on the bed. “He’s giving and loving, and he’s got this way of sparking me up. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“There’s one word that is on your mind right now, and it makes me want to puke.”
“What word?”
“It rhymes with dove.”
“I really do like him, Chloe. I want to be with him. I don’t know what this is, but I’m happy.” Something crashed in the kitchen. I jumped up to run out and see what it was. Nothing seemed out of place.
“Zoe?” she asked, her voice worried.
“I’m here.”
“What was that noise?”
“I don’t know. I’m checking it out.” I opened the cupboards, but everything was in order. I checked around the table. Nothing had fallen onto the floor.
“You’re starting to scare me,” Chloe said.
“I’m just checking to see what it was.”
“Well, I’m not hanging up until you find out.”
“It’s fine.” I opened the freezer. A block of ice had fallen out of the icemaker into the bucket below. The cubes were fused together.
“What was it?”
“Just my icemaker. Please stop worrying about me.”
“That’s not easy.”
I walked back into my room to lie down again. “Can’t I just enjoy myself for a little while?”
“I suppose you’re right I—”
“Mr. Beetle.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
I rolled over to duck down around the far side of the bed. He walked right inside, and he was looking around in the kitchen. “He’s here. In my apartment.”
I edged forward toward the closet. I could hide in there. It would buy me some time. I lifted my arm to open the door. Something crashed into my head, and I crumpled to the floor. Something dripped down my forehead. It was hot and gooey. I reached up to touch it and felt a rush roll over me, pulling me under until I lost consciousness.
My head throbbed. Something rough and scaly had dried onto my cheek and nose. When I moved my mouth, it broke apart. The smell of festering urine and cheap tobacco was everywhere. I opened my eyes. Mr. Beetle was less than an inch away from my face, squinting at me through his thick glasses.
“Help!” I screamed. “Help!” I reached up to punch him, but my hand wouldn’t move. Something rough grated against my wrist, grinding into my skin. I was tied to one of my dining room chairs, sitting in the middle of the living room.
I thrashed around, whipping my head back and forth, desperate to catch my breath. “Help! Help!”
Mr. Beetle’s expression remained neutral. He sat down on the couch across from me, then reached into his pocket to pull out a bag of loose tobacco and a miniature Bible. He ripped a page out, folded it, and shoved the black mess inside. Then he sealed it up with a wad of mucus. He lit the freshly rolled cigarette. The smell of sulfur and burning ash filled the air.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
He didn’t even look at me.
I jerked against my restraints. The chair wobbled off balance, and I crashed sideways onto the carpet. “Please,” I sobbed, certain that he’d have some sympathy for me. He was obsessed with me, wasn’t he? I heard him take a puff of his cigarette, but that’s all he did.
I erupted in a roar of frantic screams, never once letting up, even when my throat was so dry it felt like it was going to collapse into a pile of dust. My vocal chords were just grating together now, making a harsh raspy sound, but I wasn’t going to stop. My animal instincts had taken over. This wasn’t about getting away any longer. I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I was like a dog scratching on a cage that they knew they weren’t going to get out of, acting out of pure desperation.
I clawed at the carpet, ignoring the way the orange rope cut into my skin, even when I felt blood slick my wrists. It didn’t matter. There was no stopping. My fingernails were chipping, now raw and bloody, and my voice was completely gone.
I was sobbing, but no tears came. Instead, I was stuck in that infuriating place when you know you need to cry and scream, but it just won’t work, and there was nothing I could do to make it work. I didn’t even get that much relief.
Beetle was running his finger down my neck. I felt a sickening rush at his touch. His finger caught on the collar of my shirt. He held it there for a moment, and then he pulled the chair upright so I could see him.
“Why are you doing this?” I rasped.
“You hurt me.” He sat down to roll another cigarette and scrunched his face up in a comical expression.
“Hurt…you?” I struggled to get the words out, but I could already feel my voice starting to come back.
“Yes!” He stood up, rushed over to me, and got in my face. “I love you, Zoe. I never once did anything to hurt you. I guarded your store from those men who were trying to take you from me, and I came in every day to buy your food. But all you ever did was make fun of me.” He stepped back. “Did you really think I was going to let you get away with that?” He clicked his tongue, wagged his finger, and said, “No. No, I’m a smart man. I know how to do things.”
He pulled a knife out of his pocket.
“N-n-no! No! Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be with you. We can be together. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please.”
“You never even asked me what my name was.”
“You’re right. So tell me now. Tell me everything about yourself, and I’ll listen.”
“I’m not telling you anything.” He walked back into the kitchen and lit the flame on the stove.
“No! No! Noooo!”
He ignored my pleas. He pressed the knife to the flame and held it there.
“You c
an’t stop me, Zoe. It’s like I told the mean man. He can’t always be with you.” Beetle turned around and held up his knife. The tip was glowing red. “Now you’re all mine.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Archer
“What are your plans for today, Mona?”
She made me drag the cart of strawberries and chocolate down to the living room, and we were watching her soap opera while the boys climbed around.
“Nothing.” She put her feet up on the coffee table. “Well.” She seemed to mull it over. “Maybe I’ll go down to the bar and have a drink later. The bartender’s been eyeing me.”
“Old love?”
“Dear God, no.” She sounded shocked. “Why would I want to go and do something like that? I just want a little bit of fun.” She turned back to the screen where two ridiculously good-looking men were running around a track with their shirts off while the girls went over their plans to steal them away and destroy each other’s lives. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Zoe says anything and everything. I’m more focused on the possibilities than anything concrete.”
“You should take them down to the zoo. I still haven’t gotten a chance to take them, and they have a little room for the babies where they can look at butterflies in cages. They’ll love it.”
“Butterflies?”
“Not everything has to be manly. They’re kids.”
“They’re little men.” I reached down to the blanket where Andrew was crawling around and let him grab my finger. Abel watched for a moment then decided to join in. Mona was looking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“They like you. No matter what you say.”
“I’m not buying it.”
“They know their dad when they see him.” Mona picked up a strawberry and dipped it in chocolate, then popped it into her mouth. The bowl was almost gone. “You should order these for me when I watch the boys.”
“Just tell Leti. She’ll make you whatever—Mona, look.”
“What?” she asked.
Abel was standing up, his butt swinging back and forth. It looked like his legs were ready to buckle.
“Quick grab your phone,” she said, reaching into her pocket for hers.
“Why?” Abel’s legs were shaking, and his hands were held up on his sides.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.” I pulled out my phone just in time to film him taking his first step.
“We got it!” Mona exclaimed happily.
“We sure did.”
“Oh—he’s still going.”
Abel took another step. He was shaky on his feet, but he was doing it. Andrew was watching. He grabbed onto the hem of Mona’s dress and lifted himself up.
“Do you think?” she asked.
“Shh, don’t jinx it.”
Sure enough, Andrew stepped forward, closer to his brother. Abel reached up to take his next step and fell flat on his butt.
Chloe rushed into the house with tears streaming down her face.
I stood up instantly, ignoring the sound of the babies shrieking. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“It’s Zoe.”
“What happened to her?”
“Mr. Beetle.”
“Mona, call the guards to take the boys with you to your house and stay there. Have them send the truck around right away.”
“On it.” She was already carrying the boys into the nursery so she could get them ready.
I pulled Chloe out into the driveway while we waited for the truck. “What did she say?”
“He’s in her apartment.”
“Did she sound hurt? Did he do anything to her? Please, tell me that she’s okay.”
“I don’t know. All she said was that he was there. Then she hung up.”
“Fuck,” I wailed and kicked the gravel.
“You can help her, can’t you? You have weapons, and you have people that can come?”
“It doesn’t really matter what I can do if she’s already…” I couldn’t finish that sentence.
“No.” Chloe shook her head. “Don’t think like that.”
I felt dizzy, like the depression from the last few days was coming back, only this time it was thick, impenetrable. There’d be no escaping it if she was truly gone. It was like somebody was cutting off my arm, and I was waiting to see whether or not they’d get through the bone. It could happen. She might…
“Sir.” A guard rushed in. “Truck’s ready.”
“Good. Mona is getting the boys ready. I want you to keep her and the boys in sight at all times. If something happens to her, you’re done. If she stays safe, you’ll have my respect and a bonus.”
“Yes, sir.” He ran upstairs.
“Oh my God,” Chloe gasped when she walked outside to see the truck. It was a black beast with tinted windows and a lift kit so high that she’d literally have to climb inside. The best part was the shell. It was completely bullet proof, no civilian weapon could get through it, and there were enough guns and explosives in the back to fuel a small Army.
I jumped into the bed and opened a black chest. I pulled out a semi-automatic rifle, filled it with cartridges, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Chloe was already struggling to get in. I opened the door for her and offered her my hand to help her up.
“Give me a handgun,” she said.
I opened the glove compartment and pulled out a revolver. “Do you know how to use this?”
She took it from me, checked to make sure it was loaded, and said, “Just drive.”
I didn’t take any chances. I took the back roads until I had to merge onto the freeway and barreled through, past every car I came up against until we reached the exit. At the top of the ramp, there was a red light. I looked to make sure there were no cars coming and blazed past.
Chloe was leaning forward, watching everything I did. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking, and tiny sobs still shook her small frame. I couldn’t think. Thinking was dangerous. It meant acceptance—despair.
I told myself that this wasn’t real. It was a mistake. The man was just a poor bum. He couldn’t possibly hurt her. He wasn’t strong enough, and he didn’t have the money to get a gun. Still, anyone determined enough could do some serious damage.
We came up on another red light. I didn’t even try to brake. A van was turning left. He flew out of control and stopped just a few feet short of a light pole.
“Slow down!” Chloe said.
“Don’t be stupid.” I hit the gas and barreled through the next light, and then the next, each time swerving to miss oncoming traffic. Chloe was pale and sweating with wide eyes. She was clearly unstable. I couldn’t let her get involved in the fight, but I knew she’d give me trouble if I tried to take her gun back. I let her keep it.
We were three blocks from Zoe’s apartment. The closer we got, the harder it was to contain myself. He could be doing anything to her. That only made it worse. I couldn’t think of the possibilities. I had to stay calm and keep a clear head, but I could feel a battlefield frenzy rise up inside me. It was an uncontrollable force, and once it took hold, the only thing I could do was ride it out.
There were ways to kill a man without getting caught. I could snap his neck and hide the body. He didn’t have any connection to either of us, at least not on paper. I’d just dump him somewhere, and nobody would know.
By the time we rounded the corner onto Zoe’s street, I’d decided that killing him would be the best thing to do. He wouldn’t get a life sentence for breaking into her house. If he was mentally ill, there was a chance that they wouldn’t even convict him. He could easily do this again, and he wasn’t going to stop, not if he was willing to go this far.
“Chloe, I need you to promise me something.”
“What?” She was clutching the gun so hard that her knuckles were white.
“If I kill him, don’t say anything to anyone for the rest of your life. Don’t even talk to me or Zoe about i
t, no matter how traumatizing it is. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She meant it.
Normally, I would’ve pressed her, but we both knew what was at stake. I didn’t know what was happening, or what I might have to do. Even if her life was in danger, killing him could get me sent to prison for the rest of my life.
I was willing to risk it. Even if I never saw Zoe again, at least I could say that she was alive and that her life wasn’t in danger. It’d be a worthy sacrifice, one that I knew I’d never regret.
Chloe was shaking and sobbing, “I need to know that y-you’re not going to walk away from this.”
“Never,” I said firmly.
“You promise me that right now, because so help me God if you walk away and she gets hurt, I will kill you myself.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into a space right behind her apartment. I scanned around, searching for any sign of movement, but there was none. Everything was quiet—static.
We jumped out of the truck. Chloe started to run toward the building, but I stopped her. “Stay behind me. Don’t go around the corner. If you do that, you could get shot.”
“No! No! Nooo!”
“That’s her,” Chloe cried.
“Don’t go anywhere.” I flew forward and darted my head around the corner so I could see inside the apartment. The door was wide open. I caught a flash of sickly green—Beetle’s shirt. He was standing next to her stove, holding something to the flame. Then he turned around and held up a knife.
I flew past the staircase in front of her door and jumped inside. “You’re going to die.” I came up behind Beetle and pressed the barrel of my gun to his back.
“No, Archer,” Zoe’s voice cracked. Her face was covered in black streaks of coagulated blood.
Beetle lunged forward, stopped at her feet, and reached up to press the glowing tip of his knife to her neck. The black scent of burning flesh caught in my throat, and black spots marred my vision. The crack of the gun blast nearly ruptured my ear drums.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zoe
My eyes snapped shut, and my head flew forward. I fell to the ground, unable to hear anything but the ringing sound in my ears. My neck stung from the burn. The wound throbbed with every heartbeat, a steady reminder of how close I’d come to dying.