Page 15 of Their Rustic Retreat

I scream.

He screams.

For a time he just glares at me.

“Well? Keep your eyes on the road! I’m not looking to cause a five-car collision here.”

I obey, agreeing with him on that, even if I strongly disagree about other things.

“Follow my directions. Don’t make me get more forceful with my suggestions and we’ll get along beautifully.”

My brain catches up with what’s happening, and I manage to sputter, “F-forceful?”

The man twirls a butterfly knife in his hand.

Oh. That kind of forceful.

Well.

This sucks.

SEVEN

tristian

I headed home to my small apartment on the edge of Evergreen Valley. It was actually the only apartment building in the town, which isn’t surprising, given Evergreen's size.

It is tiny as all hell, but it does what I need it to. I’m one guy with no family now, and even if I can afford more, I don't need more. The money I saved over the years, I told myself, would be put to building something I could really live and thrive in. Something worthy of a family.

The Evergreen Valley way of things is to build it yourself, and that little nest egg I’ve built up will still be good for that. Lumber and labor aren’t exactly free.

On my apartment door, I see something pinned.

I cock an eyebrow as I approach and peel it off. A single piece of paper. I’m filled with dread as I see it. If the superintendent had a message for me, he'd use the mailbox.

No, this is the way of a certain skinny slimeball.

I rip it off. And read it.

Come Home, We’re Waiting For You.

I shudder and crumple it up.

I go into my apartment. I’m sick of it. How long were they going to bother me about this? I told them I wouldn’t talk. That I didn’t want anything to do with any of this. And yet they still persist on nagging me.

All further threats of drunk perverts in my life will be done, free of charge. I’m not going back.

I found something so much better in life.

I clean myself up. I’m a bit wound up by it, so I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do. I kind of want to spend it with Serena. I want to spend all my time with her, actually. But life is cruel sometimes and denies me. What can I do?

There’s a knock on my door.

I grumble. Is he here to plead with me in person again? Relentless asshole. Maybe I just need to deck him to send the message. Might work on someone as pathetic as Jessie Joe.

The knocking is more rapid.

“Open up, or I’m going to kick this thing down.”

---