Page 25 of In His Veins

Pulling on latex gloves, I remove the makeshift dressing and assess the damage, praying there aren’t tiny shards of glass inside. Her face flashes in my mind as I pour antiseptic solution over it, gritting my teeth at the burn. I expected her to look triumphant after she plunged the shard into my stomach, but instead she looked shocked, if not horrified.

I pour antiseptic into the wound again, and it hurts less. The blood mingles with the solution, trailing down my stomach and onto my jeans. I make myself look away and dry the area again. As I open the suture kit, I feel the compulsion to check on her.

The idea of not knowing if she got home okay fills me with anxiety. I can’t jeopardize the sterility of my instruments and the wound, so I thread my needle and make quick work of the stitches. With each pierce of the needle, I see her scared, honey eyes. With each pull of the thread, I feel her hair wrapped around my hand.

I don’t even remember dressing the wound as I pull up her video feed. I rest against my kitchen counter, soft moonlight the only light in the room. She’s fast asleep, wrapped tightly in her blankets. Her legs are drawn up, and it strikes me how small she is. Just putting my eyes on her calms me, and I stumble into bed.

* * *

Ava doesn’t leave her apartment for the next few days. I watch the video feed like it’s my religion. Paige comes and goes, but Ava just sits in her studio and paints. I can’t make out the details of what she’s painting, and the unknowing drives me mad.

Chase sends me articles pertaining to recent drug and criminal activity in the area, but I can’t find it within myself to do more than scan them. Another overdose, this time a college student. A girl’s gone missing, police suspect abduction. Used needles, abandoned behind popular clubs.

I don’t respond to Chase, my time entirely occupied by his sister.

During one of Paige’s visits, she tells Ava what has become of my finger gift. Paige apparently keeps an enclosure of dermestid beetles, and the flesh around the finger is in the process of being digested. I find that I like Paige much more now. She sits and talks to Ava while she paints, but she’s so focused, she’s almost unresponsive.

I watch her at night, but even her bedtime routine has changed. She spends all day and night painting until she eventually falls asleep on her living room couch. She calls out of work each day claiming a fever, so I can’t even see her from afar.

On the second day, I try working out in my home gym, but the movement pulls at my stitches. I feel jittery and restless as I wait for Ava’s next move.

The Giovanni brothers try to set up meetings with me, but I feel like my obsession is so obvious that they would be sure to put the pieces together.

Eventually, I realize I can no longer avoid them when I get a third call from Lucas.

“Dude what the fuck? Where have you been?”

I sigh and rub my face. “Look, I’m dealing with something personal, but I’m fine. What’s up?” Lucas’s voice is immediately suspicious.

“Personal? You don’t do personal.”

“Yeah, no shit, but here I am. Now tell me what you want before I end this call.” He grumbles from the other line.

“Jesus, fine. Well, speaking of personal, we’ve all been trying to call you. Mom and Richard are hosting a dinner and they want to meet you.” I grimace, trying to think of a way to get out of it. They’ve been trying to meet me for years, but just the idea of it makes me squirm. In general, formal gatherings make me uncomfortable, but add in my best friends’ mom and stepdad and it’s unbearable.

“I know you don’t want to go, but it would mean a lot to them. And to us for that matter,” he adds with no small amount of discomfort. The Giovanni brothers express their feelings about as well as I do, which is to say, poorly.

“Just think about it,” he says. “Besides, you’d also get a chance to meet Ava after all these years. I know she wants to meet you too.” The sound of Ava’s name is like a flare being set off.

“Your sister is going to be there?” I try to sound neutral. Lucas’ voice perks up, sensing he might still have a chance to convince me.

“Yes, so you should definitely come because we need you as a human shield for when she inevitably starts a fight with her father.” I grin at the thought. I wouldn’t have anticipated Ava having a smart mouth, but now I find that I crave it.

“Alright, fine. What time should I be there?”

After making arrangements with Lucas, I feel like I can finally breathe. Just knowing when I’ll get to see Ava again is like a balm. Now that I’ve let myself get close to her, to touch her, I find that I can’t go long without her. Sleep evades me that night. While that isn’t unusual, it’s not war-torn scenes and screams filling my head. I can’t help but picture Ava’s face when she sees me in her parents’ home, and I feel like a kid as the flutter of nerves settles in my stomach.

I roll out of bed and pace my bedroom, pausing in front of my dresser to study the painting propped against the wall. Ava’s signature is in the bottom corner, but I would know it was her painting from the figure alone. That naked body appears unbidden in my mind every day, and I envy the hand that drags a blade through the tender flesh between her breasts. She doesn’t have any scarring there, but I know I’ll be the one to add it. I bring the canvas closer to my bed and eventually fall asleep to the image of Ava’s body and blood.

* * *

Ava spends another day painting, so I try to use the day to look into suspects of this drug case. There are several suspects that I interacted with while I was abroad with Chase in Special Ops, but there’s no record of them coming overseas. Not that I can completely eliminate them from that alone, but it does narrow down my list marginally.

I spend a few hours talking to some family members of the victims who OD’d, but none of them have any relevant information that wasn’t already included in the police report. I’ve wasted the entire day, and I’m driving towards Ava’s apartment before I can think better of it. I park in my usual spot and look at her feed. She’s lying in bed, and I can tell she’s thinking about her vibrator. A few minutes later, I’m proved correct as she reaches into her drawer.

With my official introduction to her and her family so imminent, I decide to play my final hand. I’ve had her cell phone number for a while, but I was waiting for the right moment to use it.

Thinking of me?

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