Page 56 of Collateral Damage

She notices my empty bottle, replacing it with a new one before sitting down to eat with me and this feels so weird but this anxiety and doubt, all these negative emotions are suddenlygone?I feel strangely content right now. Maybe a little too content. I've seen Kacey drunk and it's slightly terrifying. If she could see me now.Minus the serial killer who ruined my life.She would be so proud. This isn't exactly your typical‘date’but it's strongly comfortable.

She admires me from across the table. Like she's looking straight through me as a tiny grin pulls the corner of her mouth, sitting in momentary silence and my eyes shift, trying to figure out what on earth she's looking at before she raises her beer, slumped in her chair.

“Happy ‘Doomsday’Alora.” My throat jams, nearly choking on air as I glare at her with detective eyes.

“How did you- I never told-” the realisation smacks me in the face and I want to crawl up into a ball. I was hoping she would leave my birthday out of this and the only way she could have possibly known that was if she took my calendar.

“You read my calendar… Nothings safe with you, is it?”

I chug another few swigs, now accustomed to the sensation, sinking in my self-loathing. Another year older and I'm on a date with a murderer.Not quite how I pictured my first date.

“Are you dead yet?” She has yet to touch her food, still heavily fixated on me. Like she's eating me from the inside out with her eyes. And honestly, she already has. She's buried holes inside of me and chewed away at all my defences that were protecting myself from the caged beast. She's now inside of me, making her mark against my walls.

“No…” My teeth graze my bottom lip as I drag it, pushing against my swollen mouth from biting it sore. I could be dead. But I'm not. Part of me still wants to be but she's making life more tolerable. The person who ruined it is making life lookfun. I'm learning slowly to let my hair down, consequences be damned. She's trying to teach me that there is no living without danger, and the more I'm around her, the more that is starting to make sense.

“Then I'd say you're pretty safe, wouldn't you?” My thighs clench together tightly beneath the table trying to remember why I should hate every part of her but it's proving to be very difficult when all I can think about right now is how safe I truly am with her. I'm safer here with her than I ever was at home.

“How long have you known?” I begin to shovel food into my mouth, carefree of her judgement. She can't make a meal this banging and expect me not to inhale it. Plus, I dribble in my sleep. It can't get much worse than that.

“Since we met.” My chewing stops. Remembering the hypo pen. She must have gone back home.But why?“Close your eyes.” She swiftly interrupts me like she knows I’m about to ask her more questions as I finish my mouthful, placing my cutlery down on the table.

“Haydennnnnn, enough surprises.”I literally hate surprises.

“You’ll like this one. I promise.” I roll my eyes reluctant to shut them but after trying to protest I close them, listening to her shuffle about in the garage from the door behind me.

“Open.” She instructs, but I'm nervous, squinting like someone's about to hit me before my eyes nearly fall out of my head at the sight.

“OH MY GOD! IS THAT MY BASS GUITAR?!” She definitely went home and now I am even more curious as to why she would have gone to that length for me when she’d only known me for not even 48 hours.

“Do you play?”I ask playfully.

“Used to. But I'm more of a traditional player myself.” She plays guitar too?! What can't she do?!

“You play acoustic?” I contain my excitement, remaining calm on the outside but inside I want to scream.

“You sound surprised.” She takes another mouthful, and her blunt answers on their own are enough to make any woman fold. I'm convinced.

“You're just- full of surprises. It's nice. This. Learning more about you…” I gaze at her softly and I don’t know if that was me or the alcohol talking.

“You said you wanted to know more about me.”

C H A P T E R 33

WHAT IS BEAUTIFUL

Puppeteer

Her pupils dilate as she sets her focus on me. I'm finally giving her what she wants and the alcohol is definitely getting to her head. I can almost see heart shaped irises. She's so interested in me that her food is going cold but she has eaten a fair amount. She couldn't get it down her gob quick enough.

“What music do you like?” She asks beaming with excitement.

“Linkin Park. Eminem. Stuff like that.” She tilts her head with her thoughts in the clouds.

“Eminem? Who's that?” I nearly drop my beer. What is this blasphemy? How on earth?God she really was sheltered.

“I'm sorry. Did you just say,who's that?”

“I'm serious! Who's that!”Her. Fucking. Dimples.

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