Page 74 of Hey, Daddy

“Oh, fuck.”

That’s when he appeared around the corner, gun in hand, staring in shock at the scene.

His eyes took in the blood.

It was everywhere.

On the walls.

On the bed.

On the floor.

On me.

On Daniil.

There was just so much of it you didn’t know where to focus.

“Fuck, Nastya.” Haze looked from me to the bathroom that had the door closed and back. “Is there anyone in the bathroom?”

I didn’t know.

I didn’t say that, though, because I couldn’t get my mouth to work.

He walked across the floor, his boots squelching in the blood, and opened the door to the bathroom.

That’s when I saw a second body.

It was half in, half out of the tub.

There was blood all over the bathroom floor, walls, mirror.

“Oh god.”

Haze.

There was something wrong.

The person in the tub mattered to him.

I still couldn’t get my feet to work.

The blood was starting to itch as it dried on my skin.

Haze pulled his phone out and dialed someone.

He spoke quickly and quietly, hung the phone up, and did it again.

And again.

And again.

He called what seemed to be half the population of Dallas.

He left the body in the bathroom and came to me, his eyes haunted now, and dropped down to his haunches.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

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