Page 113 of Mayhem and Minnie

Her expression is as serene as ever as if the coldness could never reach her.

My heart pounds in my chest. Faster and faster. A vein throbs in my temple.

Confusion swarms inside my mind.

She takes a step toward me.

“There’s no one here, Marlowe. There never was.”

“But I saw?—”

“Maybe you didn’t see properly,” she offers as she stops in front of me, placing a hand on my chest. She gives me a worried smile. “Are you all right? Do you need to lie down? I can make you some hot soup and you can take a nap.”

I gulp down. Uncertainty flickers across my features. Yet another emotion I haven’t experienced before, but that now seems to have possessed me.

“I think you’re right,” I say as I take a deep breath.

Maybe I did see wrong. Maybe I’ve been too stressed about her being mad at me that I just imagined things. It’s not as if I don’t think daily about the effect Minnie has on other men and the fact that I’ll very well end up killing someone soon for looking at her the wrong way.

Perhaps it’s just my subconscious telling me that I need to be more careful with her—keep her close to me and away from the world.

“Let’s head back inside.” She takes my hand and leads me back to the house.

As soon as we reach the warmth of the house, I release a deep sigh. I regard her warily, an apology brewing in my mind. Yet when the moment comes to verbalize it, I find it hard to do so.

I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Come, I’ll make you something hot to eat,” she says.

I don’t move. I simply stare at her. The anger from before hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s intensified.

“Marlowe?” she calls out when she notices I’m rooted to the spot.

She tilts her head to the side in question.

“I saw you,” I repeat. “You were not alone.”

“And I showed you there were no footprints in the snow. Come on, Marlowe. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

In two long strides, I’m in front of her with my hand around her throat. I don’t squeeze. I merely push her chin up with my thumb so she’s looking me in the eye.

“I don’t care whether there was someone there or not. But trust me when I say that if I ever see you with another man, I’ll kill you both.”

“W-what?” She blinks.

I smirk at her and slowly tighten my grip on her neck.

“You will not talk to other men. You will not smile at other men. And you will certainly not hug other men.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, confused.

“Tell me you understand me, Minnie,” I drawl, slowly getting back to my comfort place. If everything else fails, then there’s only one answer—murder.

“But… You don’t even like me,” she stammers.

“I don’t need to like you.” I shrug. “You belong to me.”

She stares at me with those big eyes of hers before her expression slowly morphs in front of my eyes. Her lips curl up in a secretive smile.

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