Page 14 of Not Your Hero

I shove off the couch and walk slowly into my room, checking behind the doors and in the closet to make sure the police didn’t miss something. There’s nothing here. No one here.

With a sigh, I grab some clothes and head into the bathroom, starting the shower. I let it get hot before I strip and climb in. I let the water wash over me as I close my eyes, trying to get the vision of Brandon out of my head. He’s gone. Isn’t he? Is this him messing with me? How though? How could he have done it?

That has to be the reason, right? He did this. He made me think he was dead and took off. That’s the only explanation for what happened tonight. I keep my eyes tightly closed as I let the water rain over me. Why wouldn’t he just say he didn’t want to help me? Why go through all the dramatics?

I open my eyes and grab my shampoo, squirting it into my hand and scrubbing my hair. I start to rinse it out when I hear something. Did I hear something? Or am I really going crazy?

I pull back the shower curtain and stick my head out, but I don’t hear anything now. Shaking my head, I must be losing it. Maybe I should have taken the officer up on his offer to go to the fucking hospital before I end up in a mental institution.

I finish my shower and climb out, grabbing the towel as I go. I dry off and grab my shirt and shorts, tugging them on before brushing my hair out. Then I stand looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t look tired. I don’t look anything out of the ordinary, either. It’s just … me.

With a sigh, I leave the bathroom, shutting the light off on my way out. Feeling a little thirsty I start toward the kitchen when I see a shadow move across the room. My heart jack knifes in my chest. The beating could be heard from across the room as hard as it’s pounding right now.

“Brandon? If that’s you, this shit isn’t funny. You’re a real asshole for doing that,” I call out, but I get no answer. Forcing my legs to move when they don’t want to, I move in the direction of the shadow. I don’t think this is funny at all. If Brandon is doing this, I’m going to kick his ass.

I round the corner to the kitchen with my heart lodged in my throat and nearly jump, but there’s no one there. This is great. I’m really fucking losing it.

I sigh and make my way over to the sink and fill a glass of water, chugging it down like I can’t drink it fast enough. When I’m done I set the cup in the sink and head back to my room. I close the door without looking, and that’s when a hand wraps around my waist as another wraps around my mouth, blocking the scream that rips from my throat. I kick and claw at the hand over my mouth, trying to get free, but it does no good. Whoever this is has a strong hold on me, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

“Shh, no more screaming,” the voice says. It’s not Brandon’s voice. Oh my God. That isn’t Brandon.

Scared. That’s all I can feel right now as the man walks me over to my bed. He shoves me down, bending me at the waist, and all I can think is he’s going to rape me. Instead, he shoves my face into the blankets, nearly cutting off my air supply. I can hear him fumbling around with his free hand and try to get free. His hand comes back immediately, keeping my face in the blanket. I try tosuck in air, but it’s harder now. My body is trembling from the sobs, and my face is wet from the tears.

“Please, let me go,” I cry into the blanket, but it does no good. He can’t hear my pleas, or he doesn’t care. Within seconds, I feel a prick and a slow burn as something is injected. Now I really try to fight. I push with my hands, trying to shove off the bed, when he falls completely on top of me. I feel like I’m suffocating as my eyes begin to blur and not from the tears.

As I lie helpless, all I can think is that whoever killed Brandon is going to kill me, too.

Chapter 9

Gannix

“Hey, man.” My brother’s voice comes over the line.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Just checking in on you. Why do you sound so damn tired?” he chuckles.

“I am tired. The last few nights have been a little rough.”

“The dreams?” I sigh.

“Yeah. That shit doesn’t stop, Gary.”

“Not even talking to the therapist?” he asks.

“Not even that. All they want to do is drug me.”

“Drugs aren’t bad. Did you try them?” he asks.

“I did a few times. They made me drowsy, so I stopped taking them.”

“You have to take them anyway, Nix. That’s the point. Let your body get used to them,” he reminds me of shit I already know.

“I’m not much into taking medicine. You know that.”

“How’s everything else been?”

“Such as?”

---