Page 14 of Fractured

My ears are still fuzzy, which is probably why it takes me so long to process what he said. Baby batter. Fucking yuck. Thank god I didn’t hear that until after my orgasm ended. That one phrase could have ruined the whole thing right in the middle. I swear I might have traumatic flashbacks of this experience. My body drains of the lingering pleasure, leaving me feeling exhausted.

I must pass out for a moment because I blink my eyes open when he brushes a damp lock of hair off of my forehead. “You liked that, didn’t you, cupcake?” That damn mouth of his. Ruining it every time. Lifting my head up to tell him off, he grasps my cheeks with both hands and kisses me. My mouth is instantly flooded by his saliva and the post-coital haze is wiped clean.

It’s such a fucking shame… I want to look past all his flaws, but I just can’t. I wrench myself from his hold and lift myself from his lap. His cock slides out of me, and I try to ignore the emptiness I’m left with. “Where are you going?”

“I-I thought I wanted this. But it’s—it’s just too much after today. I need to go,” I stammer with a choked sob. Just add this to my list of sins. Using my mother’s death to make a bad fuck feel like shit. To add insult to injury, when I slide from his body, I snag the condom, dumping its contents all over his lap. “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!”

To hide my smirk, I busy myself pulling on my pants, so I can get the fuck out of here. Grayson scrambles to stop the cum from getting everywhere, allowing me to make my escape. I rush from his room as he shouts his protests from behind me. I don’t pause, rather I pick up my pace, so he can’t try to stop me before I make it out his door. I have better things to do than stick around here right now.

seven

I’m not normally the type to put on makeup before working out, but when your face is bruised to hell and you don’t want questions, it becomes a necessity. With each mark I cover up, I relive how I got it in my mind. I can’t help the smirk I wear thinking about crashing the lamp into the side of Scott’s head.

There’s a pep to my step as I make my way to our gym. We have all the best equipment which I use every day. My body is a temple—I treat it right by exercising and eating healthy. I start off by warming up on the treadmill. It isn’t long before Vander shows up and gets on the treadmill next to me. He side-eyes me and smirks without saying anything. He doesn’t need to. I’m already remembering his comment last night as I stormed out of Grayson’s front door.

“Where’s the fire, Remi?” I don’t respond to him, instead I rush for the elevator and repeatedly press the button, hoping it will arrive before Grayson pops out of his door. “That bad, huh? I could have warned you.” The heat emanating from Vander presses against my back. “Do you have to finish yourself off tonight, so you're exhausted enough to sleep?”

An unexpected heat warms my cheeks. I suppose he’s been around me enough to know I need complete exhaustion to pass out at night. Although I’m not sure how I feel about him knowing that, or the fact that he’s now sharing just how much he knows about me. Maybe I should reconsider the point Grayson was making about Vander’s interest in me.

“What are you doing here, Vander?” He’s never joined me on my morning workout before.

“In light of what happened, I’ll be training you from now on. You won’t need it because I won’t risk you being in a similar situation, but I want to make sure you know how to protect yourself, anyway.” He makes the announcement with his head facing forward, not giving me the option to argue against it. And while I handled myself perfectly well, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t lucky as hell. I did end up with injuries.

“Okay,” I reply as I turn up the speed on the treadmill.

Vander almost misses a step as his head whips around to stare at me. “Okay? Just like that? You aren’t going to argue with me?” he says with genuine shock.

I can’t say I blame him. I do tend to be oppositional just for the fun of it. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to argue? We can have the fight if you want to feel like you won something,” I tease him.

“Winning an argument you already agree with isn’t the prize I want to win,” he murmurs under his breath. He ups his speed and we run in silence for thirty minutes before we hit the weights. He spots me and pushes me well past the point I usually push myself. By the time he brings me to a mat for some self-defense lessons, my limbs feel like jelly.

I’m dead on my feet when Vander calls an end to his lesson. “Great job, Remi. We’ll start doing this every day from now on.”

Each breath I take feels like fire in my chest. I’ve never felt exhaustion like this in my life, which is saying something since I work out daily. I lay sprawled out on the mat with my eyes closed. “Maybe I don’t need orgasms before bed. Maybe all I need is you,” I say without thinking. My eyes fly open when I belatedly process the words.

I find Vander staring at me, hunger flaming in his eyes. He bites his bottom lip before tearing his gaze from mine. “Don’t say things like that, Remi. A man only has so much control, and you’ve been wearing at mine for years.” Before I know it, he’s left the room without a backward glance. What the hell happened between us? Did I black out for it? Because I have no idea what it could be.

My phone chirps, pulling my attention. Picking it up, my heart pounds violently in my chest. The screen unlocks on its own and the familiar box pops up on the screen.

You’ve been a very naughty girl, Remington.

My veins fill with ice. I know there’s no indication of tone in a text, but something inside makes me dread disappointing my stalker. What if he decides to disappear before I figure out who he is? I curse the fact that there isn’t a way for me to respond to his message. A moment later, a second message pops up.

The third rule of killing: Don’t tell anyone.

A video flashes on the screen and starts to play. Vander and I are in the back of the town car and I hear myself admit to killing Scott. From this angle, the video had to have been recorded from the camera on my phone that was resting in my lap. There’s no doubt about it—my stalker hacked my phone. He’s probably watching me right now through my camera.

For a split second, I consider putting a sticker over the lens, but just as quickly dismiss the thought. I know I’m crazy for enjoying the attention of a stalker instead of being terrified. Another chirp announces a new message.

While I’m at it… The fourth rule of killing: Don’t leave any evidence.

Picture after picture appears on my screen. Fingerprints all over the place. On the lamp, nightstand, Scott’s phone, the light switch in the bathroom. A few of my hairs were left on the comb I used and a couple on the bed. There’s a picture of Scott’s fingernails, which I assume means my DNA is underneath them. And then there’s the video of me killing Scott. I never gave a second thought to any evidence. I didn’t care if the police found it because the whole thing was self-defense.

What I can’t tell from the photos my stalker sent, is if they were taken as evidence by the police or if he took them himself. If I had a way to message him back, I’d tell him that if I was trying to get away with murder, then I’d never leave behind such evidence. But that isn’t the case. Motherfucker. I need to find a way to stop him from hacking my phone… I want to meet him in person, not allow him to reach me in such an impersonal way.

I reach my bedroom and find another gift left on my bed. The box is tied with a mocking bow, and a small square cardstock is tucked underneath the ribbon. Picking it up, I read the card before opening the box.

A taser may have its uses, but if you kept this on you, you never would have been hurt the way you were. Learn how to use it and keep it on you always.

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