Page 212 of Overcast

He’s fearless.

He’s livid.

He’s what Reagan called Eli—a piece of shit.

But the organ that people draw on love notes and display around their homes still lurches out of my ribcage for him. It still beats in rapid and calculated movements because he sways it to.

Marty still controls my body.

It betrays me, yearning to see, feel, and touch him because it’s the first time I’ve ever felt alive.

Whole.

The very beginning of a future without fear and trepidation. He hauled it out of me. Made me believe again that my life wasn’t always going to be men like Hollis trying to work me into their screwed up fantasies.

He’s the reason I felt safe.

Now, even though he’s in the same room with me, it only ping pongs the truth around in my head. The one that I always pondered and wished away. The same truth that I ignored.

Marty and I were that couple with massive chemistry, but a means to an end.

He was him.

And I was me.

He wanted to kill.

I wanted to live.

His world was darkness and secrets.

And mine was light and candor.

“Marty,” Eli greets as he still remains seated in the kids’ chair. “Happy you made it.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Marty snaps, feet away from him.

“Eli Montgomery.” He weakly winks at me. “Sorry, love, didn’t know how much you knew about me.”

“Why would she know anything about you?”

“I’m surprised you don’t.” Eli rises, brushing the side of my face with his hand as he does before turning to face my monster. “I would’ve thought you would’ve gotten something out of the men that you took from me.”

“You picked good ones,” Marty quips to my surprise. “Didn’t get much.”

“That’s why you chose people with everything to lose. And you, my friend, are going to lose a lot of shit today.”

I can’t see Marty with Eli blocking my view, but I can feel the tautness in the air.

He’s going to get himself killed, and the idea of that drops like a cinder block to my chest.

I’ve seen Marty pissed enough to fill in the blanks within my head of how irrational he may be. His words are spoken with confidence, but Eli came equipped.

And Marty is clueless.

It’s not lost on me that Eli chose the two people that could hurt Marty—Reagan and I. It’s enough to make bad things happen and ample enough to create a sense of unease coursing through my veins.

Eli may be an entitled prick, but he’s a smart one. He made himself faceless, had others do his dirty work, and led us here—at his mercy.

Which I believe he’ll have zero of.

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