Page 12 of For the Love of Layla

He slumps, falling to the ground as I bend quickly, wiping the blade clean on the back of his crumpled body. Reaching into his pocket for his wallet, doing my best to avoid the abundant blood covering his corpse. Emptying the contents, money, credit cards and what I wanted, an ID. I shove it all into my pocket before tossing his wallet back onto him. Holstering my knife and dawning my hood, I head off down the alley. I’ll toss the money and cards further down. No shortage of people in San Francisco that could use it.

Layla

I step out into the alley, the brisk fall air pushing my hair around my face as I look around for James. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.

I hope he didn’t take off. I got caught up talking to-

My eyes fall on the deep red puddle on the ground leading up to…

Oh God…

I run to the man, slumped awkwardly back on himself. His spine and legs tucked underneath him in a way that makes it look like there’s only the top of him left at all. Is it? James…? Oh god, I force my eyes open although I don’t remember squeezing them shut in the first place going to check his pulse, but there’s nothing. His fucking neck is carved open, the skin on either side flayed apart revealing the inner workings of his body. He’s dead…very very dead. I reach out with trembling hands to touch his arm, when I finally catch his eyes. Glazed, empty, wide and unseeing.

He’s not cold…but I think…I think…

The scream bubbles up in my throat as I wipe the tacky blood from my hands. I stumble to my feet, fighting against my wobbling knees. Bile escapes from my churning stomach before I can stop it. I’m vaguely aware of the group of people running down the alley. Black spots dot my vision as they reach my side. They’re speaking, but I hear nothing over the deafening hum in my ears, the slight whooshing of my heart underneath it. The dark alley seems too bright, the dim street lights and brick walls damp from the drizzle close in around me as I fall.

“Will you please just look at the fucking texts? Someone is messing with me-”

“Miss. Burke, I need you to calm down.”

How can I fucking calm down when you won’t fucking listen to me?

I shift the stupid emergency blanket off my shoulders before running my hands down my face. I’m sure my eyeliner makes me look like a racoon by now, anyway. Not that I’m too concerned with the opinion of the asshead in front of me.

“Look, you’ve had a long night. Been drinking, head home to get some rest. If anything comes up, we’ll get in touch. Okay?” Officer Raymond says the warmness in his voice not making it to his wrinkled eyes. We’ve been at this for nearly two hours now. I nod, standing up from the back of the ambulance. The nausea I felt when I first saw his body hasn’t subsided. I’m too numb and tired to care at this point. The buzz of alcohol I thoroughly enjoyed earlier working against me.

“Look, you said you took an Uber here tonight. Let me have an officer drive you home. If that will make you feel better.”

I take a deep breath, biting my tongue so I don’t respond how I really want to, that won’t get me anywhere. I should know I triedangryan hour ago. All it did was wear me out, “Yes it would, thank you.” It’s not a lie, I’m…shaken. Too shaken to pull out my phone and order an Uber or call Ava. To be honest, I’m one spilled glass of milk away from a fucking breakdown. I can feel the tendrils of anxiety poking at my fractured resolve.

Last thing I want tonight is a pair of grippy socks.

I hope he’s right. I hope it’s just a coincidence that someone just so happened to play a stupid creepy prank on me the same night my almost date is the unlucky recipient of a violent mugging. God, if I had been out here with him…

“Miss. Burke?” I don’t notice Officer Raymond leave or the new one take his place as I’m snapped from my spiral, “I’m Officer Daniels, I’ll be taking you home.” I don’t speak, only nodding to myself or him, who knows. My chest aches the way it does after it beats too hard for too long and my knees threaten to buckle as I follow him down the alley towards his cruiser. He looks young, much younger than Officer Raymond. We ride in silence for most of the trip, the only sound coming from the static on his police radio. “You live pretty far out here. Got anyone to stay with you?”

Yeah right. Cop or not, I’m not telling you I live alone. Sure fire way to end up on the ID channel, not that he couldn’t just look up that information.

“I text a friend earlier.” I lie, leaning my head on the cool glass of the window as we pull into my long driveway. The glass feels like a small consolation. Lessened when the smell of my alcohol infused vomit breath bounces back at me, fogging my view. Neither of us speak again and God I’m grateful for the silence. Too tapped out to notice if it’s uncomfortable or not. Part of me dreading every turn we take that pulls me closer to home. I should argue more. He’s younger, maybe he’d listen. Ask him to walk through the house if nothing else. The large farmhouse looks darker than usual despite the lit windows, that creepy fucking song playing on repeat in my head.

Which, I’m sure, was the idea.

I don’t ask for his help. I don’t mention a single more concern. I don’t even thank him. Just gather my purse and dart through the dark front yard, kicking myself for not replacing the outdoor light bulbs that burned out months ago. As soon as I’m inside, I lock the deadbolt, pressing my back to the door, letting myself slide to the ground as the weight of my night washes over me. Leaving me feeling impossibly heavy. A small tinge of relief floods my chest as Peaches comes up, settling next to me, her head brushing against my leg. I always leave lights on when I go out. I guess I never really grew out of my fear of the dark. My house is lit, so rationally I shouldn’t be scared, right?

Right?

Yet I can’t make myself get up. I can’t force my legs to move around the house. Each second sitting in silence makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. It’s moments like this that I misshimthe most. His confidence, the way he simplyexisted,always made me feel so…safe. So cared for. I run my hand over Peaches’ soft fur, reminding myself why calling him would be an awful idea. If he’d even fucking answer. My lips part as my hand goes still, making Peaches nudge me gently with her bear sized paw.

Liam…? No, there’s no way. He hasn’t so much as contacted me since the day I broke up with him. He didn’t even bother picking up his stuff.

I pitch my head back, making it thud loudly against the front door before I bite down on my lip, forcing myself to a stand. Pretending I’m brave until I actually feel that. Putting on the little show for myself and the walls. I walk into my kitchen, groaning when I realize it’s nearly 2 a.m. and I have work tomorrow.

Not that finding a dead body isn’t a good reason to call in sick.

After what happened, the last thing I want to do is be difficult. Mr. Danvers’ replacement has been nice so far. Namely, he hasn’t mentioned anything about that day. Although I’m sure he knows, Oliva brings it up every chance she gets.

“Alexa, open Spotify.”

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