by Dee Garcia
“I should fuck your little skank ass right here and remind you who you belong to,” he spat, ripping her pants down her legs. “But that would be too easy and quite bloody pointless, considering you’d more than likely open your legs for him again!”
This man was not in the least bit worried about being discreet. He was roaring in her face, veins bulging in his neck, literally digging her into the wall. The woman had no voice in which to answer. She was visibly shaking, mascara-stained tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m right, aren’t I, Millie? If he came over tomorrow, you’d drop your knickers and spread your legs for him gladly, wouldn’t you? You never got over him…” he sneered.
Jesus, this was growing more grisly by the second. He’d managed her jeans and panties down to her ankles already. He’d spread her legs too, and she was so afraid, so frozen by fear, that she hadn’t even noticed. Her body simply complied. The game of survival.
“Answer me when I speak to you, Millie,” he gritted out, bringing a raging hand to her throat. The other fondled her, his touch free of any tenderness or love.
He wanted to hurt her.
I was both sick to my stomach and downright vehement. This man was a prime example of the people who’d ended up on Daddy’s list. Filthy, despicable individuals like this.
I should kill him.
I really should. He may not have owed anything to my father, but removing him from society would be a good thing. One less sick bastard running around.
I had to kill him.
You don’t really have to, Eden. I mean, who are you to play God? But you should kill him, you know you should because if you don’t, Millie won’t be the only woman he kills. She may not even be the first.
Her words were mind-numbing. I was beside myself. Not because she was encouraging me to kill him—we all knew that was a given—but because she wasn’t in her usual diabolical tone. She was agreeing to a notion people like me considered good.
It hit me then, and it hit me so hard I almost gasped, giving away my position.
Had her voice always been for good? Even when I felt like she was haunting me, was she perhaps just trying to get through to me? Trying to show me that although I didn’t have a list anymore, I could still do what I’d trained almost my whole life for? I’d be doing the world a service, that’s for sure. I mean, do you know how many cases slip through the hands of the judicial system?
“I guess I’m right since you don’t want to answer me, whore!” The man’s nefarious snarl literally snapped my attention back to what was happening. I even had to shake my head to clear the residual fog. The purpose behind my dark passenger’s actions would have to wait…
“That’s okay, you don’t have to answer, dear Millie. You want to know why?” he asked her, enunciating every word so exaggeratedly, spittle shot out from his mouth onto her face.
Millie was barely able to shake her head, her face growing purple from the force of his grip.
The man chuckled and withdrew his fingers from her privates, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Because I’m going to kill you,” he seethed.
I don’t fucking think so.
Just as he withdrew a pocket knife, I was already moving, coming up behind him with such stealth, he didn’t even see me throw an arm around his neck. Gasping at my sneak attack, he immediately released Millie, which at first I thought was a good thing, until I felt the blade puncturing my skin.
Clearly he was more street smart than I’d anticipated.
I gasped as he pulled it back out, my mind too preoccupied on the pain now grating through my left side to notice him thrusting me against the wall. My head hit the bricks and within seconds, all I could see were stars. I hunched over, clasping my bloodied wound, and still he managed to knee me right in the gut three times. Hard. So damn hard, he knocked the wind right out of me.
How the fuck was this happening right now? What is wrong with me?
You’re out of practice, she pointed out.
I was, God I was, and I needed her help.
Help, please, I begged silently, and I could all but see her shaking her head, chuckling in amusement with that ‘I told you so’ look painted all over her face.
Just as my vision cleared, I caught Millie trying to make a run for it. The man must have seen her from the corner of his eye because he was on her in a flash, forgetting me in an instant.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished!”
“Please, Bobby, stop! Nooo!” Millie wailed, and it was so much more tormented than a simple plea; I knew he’d stabbed her too, without even looking.
Now, Eden! Fling him into the wall! Focus!
Despite the cramp screaming from my side, I followed her lead, rushing up behind him a second time. I gripped him by the back of his leather jacket and hurled him into the brickwork on the opposite side with every bit of force I could muster. Millie collapsed behind me just as his pocket knife clattered to the ground.
“Instant karma, motherfucker,” I growled at him, landing three swift—and bloody-knuckled—punches dead center in his face.
And then I kneed him, right in the nuts—just like my daddy taught me.
Always go for the nuts.
The bastard fell to his knees and as I crouched to take hold of the blade, Millie whimpered in harrowing fear. My head whipped toward her of its own accord. The girl was downright terrorized. I don’t think she had tears to cry anymore. Too stunned from the pain to move, she remained hunched against the wall, half-undressed, exposed, begging me to help her.
And I would, I’d help her later.
We needed to get rid of this vile bastard first.
I can’t begin to explain to you the power I felt when I cradled the pocket knife in my hand. Think of it as a reunion of sorts, something I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. His life was now in my hands; a life he didn’t deserve to live when he thought he could just rob others of theirs.
Let’s remedy that, shall we?
Fisting the top of what I was just noticing was a head of dark hair, I yanked him onto his feet and brought my arm to his throat, pinning him to the wall. My heart was slamming so violently, I felt like I was moving a million miles per hour. I couldn’t even register the pain anymore.
The high was back.
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, Bobby,” I started, setting the tip of the blade to his forehead. “It was Bobby, right?”
Bobby barely nodded. He wasn’t even resisting; hell, he was barely breathing.
“Well, Bobby, as I said…I would say it’s nice to meet you, but the truth is, it’s not. I loathe people like you, sick bastards who enjoy terrorizing others for their demented pleasure. Unfortunately for you, I just so happened to be in the right place at the right time. Have any clue as to why that is?” I asked him, lightly dragging my weapon down the center of his face. Not a drop would be shed…yet.
Again, Bobby barely nodded, gaze rapt on my shiny toy. Mr. Big and Bad wasn’t so big and bad anymore. He was scared out of his mind, fear seeping from every last one of his pores, and the immense pleasure that brought me was slightly sickening.
“Because I’m your worst fucking nightmare, Bobby,” I spat, bringing my face inches from his. “I’ve walked through hell plenty of times, and I’m about to drag you back with me. Time to pay your dues.”
There. Was. No. Thought. Process to what transpired after those words. The arm holding him in place reared back with well-practiced agility and in a simple breath, my hand slapped across his forehead, granting me access to his neck. A savage growl tore through me as I jammed the blade into his jugular and yanked it across to the other side, feeling—and almost hearing—every layer of skin rip apart with the motion. A fountain of warm blood sprayed everywhere, thick droplets falling on my face as his body hit the ground.
I sighed in relief and watched him bleed out, my chest heaving, Millie’s cries resounding in the background. His aghast expression froze for
all time, as every last shred of life left his body, the light in his eyes fizzling out right before my own. That sense of peace I’d always relished after taking out a mark washed over me, except it was different this time. I’d watched hundreds of people die, but somehow Bobby’s death was all the more satisfying. Even without my signature, I felt like I could breathe.
I did breathe.
Only that breath wasn’t as satisfying.
All too quickly, pain lanced through my side once more. I scrunched my eyes together and tried to breathe through the excruciating rush now rampaging through my head.
“Help me, please,” Millie begged me quietly. “I-I’ll help you t-too. Do you have a-a phone?”
My somewhat blurry gaze fell on her despaired form.
God, he'd really done a number on her. He must’ve started roughing her up long before I arrived because one of her brown eyes was already black and blue, the skin beneath it swollen from his fist. Dried mascara clung to her cheeks in midnight black streams. Blood soaked the lower half of her light pink blouse and dripped down her bare legs. Had I not gotten to him first, well, you know…
And she’d just watched me do the same to him.
You know we can’t afford witnesses, Eden, my dark passenger pointed out, plaguing me with what my next move would be.
Though really, I already knew damn well what that entailed.
She was right, again. Rule number two: No witnesses, ever.
I wanted to help Millie, really, I did, but I simply couldn’t risk it. She'd seen too much. Way too much. And if my family had taught me anything these last few months, it’s that you can’t trust anyone—sometimes not even yourself.
“I'm sorry,” I murmured thoughtfully, pulling the blade free from Bobby’s neck.
More blood sprung free and Millie’s eyes instantly widened in realization. Shaking her head, she shielded herself from me, unable to move very far. “No, p-please! I w-won’t tell a soul! You h-helped me, I’ll h-help you!”
My lips thinned in sympathy as I advanced on her. “I'll make it quick, I promise.”
Just as she opened her mouth to protest once more, I crouched in front of her, and slapped my hand over her mouth. She was crying again, watching my hand bring the bloodied blade to her throat. Muffled in sound, her cries of help had me hesitating, moving in slow motion. I wanted to help her. Couldn’t I just let her go?
No, you can’t, Eden. Remember rule number two. End. Her, my dark passenger demanded.
I tried to tell this girl how sorry I was, hoped my apology was clear in my eyes. Then, with a swift flick of the blade, I dragged it across her throat and finally put her out of her misery. I should’ve felt relief, knowing I’d rid myself of the one and only witness to my crime but once again, the pain in my side jounced through me, significantly worse this time. With the way my vision blurred, I knew I might be losing a lot of blood too. Panic slammed into me with such force, I stumbled and staggered down the alley, the blade falling free from my grip.
On the ground, I was on the ground now. It was suddenly hard to breathe and the world around me began fading out at an alarming rate.
Is this really how I die, I couldn’t help but think to myself as this little white light danced toward me.
Not today, my dark passenger reassured me, and right as the heaviness of my eyelids drowned me in some bizarre blend of dark and light, I caught a fuzzy figure looming over me, his deep voice so familiar, even in pure terror, that I couldn’t help but wilt into the comfort it brought me.
“Angel,” he barked, scooping me in his arms, and somehow, I managed to whisper, “I’m sorry.”
Black.
A siren.
A siren blaring.
That’s the first thing I heard when I came to. Except the sound was so different, foreign. It didn’t sound anything like the sirens back home.
Home. Xander.
My eyes snapped open in alarm and immediately, I was blinded by bright, fluorescent lights. I tried lifting a hand to shield myself, but a firm yet gentle touch didn’t allow me, leaving me to squint as a razor-sharp prick surged through my head.
“There you are. Welcome back, love,” said a friendly British voice. “Everything is going to be okay. Just keep breathing for me and stay still. Don’t want to miss a good vein.”
A good vein?
Forcing myself to adjust to the lighting, I picked up my heavy head just slightly and took in my surroundings. My enclosed surroundings, I should say; I was the in the back of an ambulance, hence those sirens. On my right was a strapping paramedic who was preparing an IV and on my left was…Xander? Xander, who was securely holding a gauze pad to my exposed side. In fact, aside from the black lace bralette fortunately keeping me modest, my entire torso was on display, my sweater cut right down the middle, hanging off both sides of the gurney I was laying on.
What the hell happ—
I almost swallowed my breath as memories of what happened obviously not that long ago came back in a flurry. Everything was suddenly clear as day…until I took Millie’s life—Millie, the young woman who didn’t deserve to die. She may have been a witness, but she was also a victim, and instead of helping her like I’d silently promised, I robbed her of her life to ensure the silence of my crime would remain intact.
The events following that heinous act were nothing more than a bleared mess of chaos. I could see myself stumbling down the alley, could remember how briskly my head spun, how my body felt like it shattered into millions of pieces when I hit the pavement. And then that figure; that obscure figure that screamed for me in agony as he scooped me up into the safety of his arms, just before my world went completely dark.
“Angel…” Xander murmured, the warmth of his hand enveloping mine, cutting my eyes to where he sat, hunched over beside me.
He was pale, sweating, those raven eyebrows of his cinched together ruefully. My heart could’ve broken right there.
“Hi,” I croaked around the oxygen mask I was literally just noticing was strapped to my face.
“You scared the crap out of me,” he admitted softly, his voice tormented and hollow.
I squeezed his hand to the best of my ability, wincing as the paramedic finally got the IV in place.
“There we go,” he interrupted before I could answer Xander. “We’re just going to get some fluids going for now, okay?”
At my nod, he offered a curt smile and turned his attention on Xander. “How we doing over there, mate? Still bleeding?”
Xander pulled the gauze back ever so slowly and shook his head, looking somewhat relieved when he glanced up at the medic. “The gauze is pretty saturated, so I can’t tell for sure, but it doesn’t appear so.”
“Fantastic, means that wound is likely not deep. We’re almost there anyway. As for you,” he clearly directed at me, shooting my stare up to his light green eyes. “Tell me how you’re feeling. What’s your pain scale like right now?”
“Is fifty-fifty an answer? I feel like it’s not gnawing at me because I’m not moving,” I answered honestly.
“Yes, yes, that’s normal,” he hummed, typing my answer into his laptop. “Now, your husband already gave me this information but it’s standard procedure for me to ask, since you’ve come to. Can you tell me your name?”
“Ed—” I started to say, until Xander’s hand squeezed mine tightly.
Crap, I almost fucked that up.
“Jean,” I corrected myself in a confident tone. “Jean Alfonso.”
The medic nodded as he inspected my eyes, blinding me once again with another light. “Excellent. And your age? How old are you, Jean?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Do you know what year we’re in?”
“2017.”
“You’ve got it. Okay, one more question for you,” he said, turning back to his laptop. “Do you know what country you’re in?”
“The United Kingdom,” I answered positively.
“Yeah, you’re good,” he chuckled
, just as the sirens cut off and the ambulance rolled to a smooth stop. “No concussion suspected, but we’ll leave that to the doctors, alright?”
Transport inside the hospital was as typical as it gets. Though they weren’t running me down the halls like a trauma patient, I was still taken straight through the emergency room waiting area into an actual room. A nurse quickly replaced Xander at my side, all but shoving a clipboard at him to fill out with all my so-called information, while she took some blood samples and carefully inspected my wound. She cleaned it up even faster, confirming what the paramedic had speculated in the back of the ambulance.
“Doesn’t appear deep at all, dear. I’d say just a few stitches is all that’s needed, and then you’ll be on your way,” she said, flashing me a crinkly-eyed smile. “Let me run these samples down to the lab. I’ll be back for that clipboard shortly.”
She was gone before I could reply, leaving Xander and I alone for the first time since my mental breakdown. For an emergency room, the silence wafting from room to room was unsettling. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. According to the EMT and the nurse, I was going to be okay and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d walk out of here feeling anything but. I looked at Xander, wondering if perhaps the imminent doom I was suddenly anticipating was a result of his presence. He wasn’t angry with me, or at least I don’t think he was, based on his reaction when I came to. But still, he found me in that alley, which meant he probably saw something. If not the entire act, he had to at least have seen Millie and Bobby’s bodies.
“How did you find me?” I asked him softly, my eyes drifting around the all-white room to avoid eye contact.
“I don’t know honestly. I just ran.” His voice was equally as soft, prompting me to give him my undivided attention.
“How long after I bolted did you come after me?”
“Almost immediately,” he said, though it sounded more like a question. “I threw on my jeans and my hoodie, grabbed my wallet, and I was out the door. The lady at reception told me you’d raced out the door maybe three minutes before by the time I made it downstairs. When I got outside, you were obviously nowhere to be found. I took a right by chance.”