Page 8 of Capo

Three

Chloe

The walls tilt and the floor heaves as I stand before my front door with my key in my hand. I put a hand to my head, trying to make the world stop spinning. I didn’t have that much to drink? Did I? The guys in Gayle’s band joined us, and there might have been shots, and then I think it got a little out of hand.

I smile as I unlock and enter my dark hallway, lock the door and hook the safety chain properly in its place. I had fun tonight. Tugging the chain a couple of times, I make sure it’s really locked. I have almost, almost left last night’s creepy encounter behind me, but it’s still crawling in the back of my mind. Dropping my bag on a chair, I go and chug down a large glass of water even though my stomach revolts. My headache will be epic in the morning no matter what and this should help at least a little. They say.

As I stare out into the black night, I try to remember when the last time was that I went to see Charlie, my stray of a younger brother. He called and left a message on my voicemail a few days ago. I haven’t called him back yet. The bastard. When the cops caught him was one of the few times that I was actually glad our parents were dead so they didn’t have to see the mess we got ourselves in. When my other brother, Chad messed up too. I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved from Atlanta as soon as I could and built a new life for myself where no one knew me, making up a pretty story about my background and family. It works for the most part. I’ve been kind of happy. I have a hard time letting people in, trusting people, but I’ve had my little haven. Until everything crashed, until Kerry got involved with the mob. It’s as if darkness follows in my footsteps. I never entirely get away.

Putting the glass in the sink, I make my way to the bathroom where I stand for a long time in front of the mirror, trying to get rid of the makeup before I brush my teeth. Our dentist dad ingrained it in us since we were little. Brush teeth twice a day, and sweets only on Saturdays. That was before he and Mom got robbed and shot to death.

My bedroom is pitch black and when I reach out to turn on the light, my fingers touch something soft, warm, and hairy.

Skin.

I cry out and try to throw myself back, my heart almost stopping. Strong fingers close around my arm in a vice grip and pull me inside.

My mind blanks out and my whole body screams in terror. As I’m thrown face first into the wall, my brain finally connects with my vocal cords. “No!” I squirm and whimper as I try to get loose. A huge, hard body presses against me from behind, pinning me against the wall, a gloved hand comes up to cover my mouth.

“Shut up,” growls a voice so deep, it vibrates through my body, a scent of whiskey on his breath.

I mewl into his palm, going slack with fear as tears fill my eyes.

“Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m just gonna ask you some questions, and you are not going to scream, are we clear?”

Nodding eagerly, I hope I can get him off me for a second so I can run. He slowly removes his hand, and as soon as I can take a proper breath, I scream.

“Help!”

My head connects with the wall so hard I almost black out. Once. Twice.

“Fucking bitch!” he snarls and grips around my throat.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper into the dark, to the rage that has fallen upon me. I’m nauseous and wetness trickles from my nostrils over my lips.

He throws me to the floor, his hand still gripping my throat too hard. I can just about get air, but not enough to do more than wheeze. “Who are you?”

A part of me already knows. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This has been my fate ever since I set foot in Kerry’s house that night and found her beaten, ever since I made her tell me her secret.

“I can be a very brief visitor.” He leans in close, nose to nose. I only see him as a vague shape in the dim light that comes from the streetlight outside. “Or I can be your worst nightmare. Your choice.”

My chest heaves as I try to breathe, and my throat hurts immensely from his bruisingly hard grip. I wait for him to say more as terror spreads through my veins, filling them with ice so cold it burns. I have a horrifying feeling I won’t be able to help him and that it is really bad news for me.

“Where is Kerry Jackson?”

Yeah. That.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, then I scream as he grabs my hair and slams my head against the floor so hard that I bite my tongue.

“Bullshit! Where is your friend?”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I push against him, trying to break free from his grip. He changes position and straddles me, pinning my arms to my sides. I have no leverage, I’m stuck under this terrifying mountain of muscle and raw, vicious strength.

“Please!”

He slams my head against the floor again, making it explode in pain, and leans in, his whiskey-tainted breath fanning my face. “Tell me, you fucking bitch, or you’re in for a world of hurt. Trust me, girl, you don’t want to know what I can do to a human body.”

I breathe in short gasps, my heart beating so hard it’s choking me. “What—What do you want with her?”

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