Page 211 of Irreversible

Has she already gone to sleep?

Am I making a big deal about nothing?

No… This is a big, public thing. She’s more vulnerable there. I would have doubled up on security. I would have?—

The pressure builds. My teeth grind. I jab my fingers on the digital keys.

Me

We needed to discuss this first.

I wait two more seconds, listening to the pulse pound in my ears. Then?—

Me

I don’t want you going.

My chest is tight.

She needs to respond, goddammit.

After five more minutes, I start calling. There’s no answer, but that’s not surprising; the sleeping pills her therapist has her taking do a good job of knocking her out. She told me it’s the only way she’s been able to sleep alone since she’s been free.

I should be there with her, making sure she knows she’s safe. She doesn’t need to dope herself up when I’m lying there next to her. She knows I’ll kill any motherfucker that thinks of touching her.

Fuck.Why did I think it was okay to leave? I should never have left.

If I squeeze the phone much harder, I’m going to crack the screen. I’ve lost track of the world outside of this car.

I check the tracker to make sure it still shows her at home, even though I’m positive she is. I’m so pissed, I can barely see straight. She can’t go—not while I’m out of town. She knows I’m trying to protect her.

She fucking knows.

I jam my finger on the call button again, knowing it won’t do any good. Then I send a text I know is pointless.

Me

Answer your goddamn phone, Everly.

Maybe I should go back.

There was no mention of what time she was leaving, or the venue—only that it was local—which means I should be able to hang out here and keep an eye out for my target a while longer. See if this douchebag shows up.

An hour goes by before I stop obsessively checking my messages. I spend the rest of the time trying to talk myself off a ledge, while keeping one eye on the hotel room.

The parking lot stays quiet for the rest of the night, which is probably for the best, since there’s a war going on inside my head. A hundred voices scream for attention:

What are you waiting for? March your ass over there and tell her she’s absolutely not going.

But it’s local, and public. Garrison can follow. She’ll be fine.

Look, dumbass, she didn’t include you in the decision for a reason; she doesn’t give a shit what you think. Take a hint.

Calm the fuck down. It’s not that big of a deal.

She’s definitely going to die the second she leaves the apartment.

Maybe you’re being too controlling. She’ll probably appreciate being given a little trust.

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