Page 99 of Locke

Her voice was quieter, her curiosity relentless. “Why do you want it?”

“Because I’ve been helpless,” he said, starkly. “I’ve been in the hands of evil, at the mercy of wicked monsters who hide in the light of day, in plain sight and they fucking shine, Kali. And you know fucking what? I hate their light, and I live to snuff it out, but I want more too. It’s my fucking turn to be the predator. Just like it’s your turn to be the prey. I want to take, and you want to resist because your nature begs you to relive the past and fight back.”

Because she didn’t fight back, did she?

And it was haunting her ever since.

She took a step back, her face breaking with sudden emotion. At the same time, it was roaring with defiance. Her confliction was beautiful to him. She was fucking art. The more he looked at this little creature, the more he appreciated her every inch and curve and colour. His heart pulsed wildly as he sat there, trying his fucking hardest to stay calm, to not take, take, take.

“Run, Kali,” he urged her. “I’ll give you a head-start—”

“You won’t find me if I ran.”

He smiled darkly at her. “I will always find you.”

She still didn't seem to understand.

Leaning forward, he said in a thick voice, "You're going to run. You're going to keep running. You're going to try and get far away. Then you're going to hide. You'll keep hiding. Maybe you'll think you got far enough away from me. But, Kali, I'm going to find you. I'm going to take you. I'm going to keep you. I'm going to do it again and again until you give in. until you realize there is nowhere you can go that I won't know."

Now it hit her.

She looked around, her eyes blazing now. She was suddenly overwhelmed. Her breaths picked up. “How long are you going to give me?”

“How long do you want?”

“A day.”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t wait so long.”

“Half a day.”

“Two hours.”

Her eyes widened with panic. “No!”

“Three hours.”

“Five hours.”

“Three hours is my limit.”

She glowered at him, but he caught the spark in her now as she stepped back again, growling, “You’re sick.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“And psychotic.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”

Her fingers trembled as she started to move now. She grabbed her bag off the desk and leafed through it. Her teeth chattered as she grabbed at the phone and threw it in, her mind on autopilot. She grabbed a few pens and notebooks off the desk—and then she remembered where she was—standing in a puddle of blood—and huffed angrily.

He spun the dial of his broken, blue watch, watching her every move. His walls were down. Gone was the façade. The fucking emotionless man was no more. Replacing it was raw, unyielding need.

“You’re so sick,” she continued on, moving around the dead body of her boss, shaking her head. “And I’m worse because I’m going to do this. I’m going to fucking run. FUCK!” She froze for a moment, her chaos and fear and excitement zipping through her body like a current. She brought her fingers to her nose and a moment later her septum piercing was facing down. Beautiful little bull, her beautiful fucking eyes glowered at him, but there was challenge in her gaze too. “Three hours,” she demanded.

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