Page 27 of Lock Me Out

Throwing her hair back to glare at me, she raises her voice. “Could you just listen to me for once? Please!”

“Why should I listen to you when I know you’re lying? You don’t think I know you by now? I’m looking in your fucking eyes, and I know you’re lying!”

There’s even more than that. There’s pain in her eyes. Maybe fear, too. Fear of me? The way I’m feeling, she should be afraid. I don’t know if that makes me like Dad or what. I only know my head is going to explode if I don’t get answers.

A soft, almost silent sob bursts out of her when I grab her arm tighter this time. “The truth. What did you do when I was gone? Who was here? And don’t tell me nobody was,” I warn when her mouth falls open. “I know someone was here. I feel it. What, do you think I’m stupid? You don’t know me better than that by now?”

“Please,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Trust me, it’s not.”

“Until I get an explanation, I’m not going to trust a fucking thing you say. Why are you lying to me? Why?”

Only when she cringes and closes her eyes do I realize I’m screaming. But fuck it. I’ve been trying the whole kind, gentle boyfriend thing, and it’s not fucking working.

Shoving her away from me makes her land on the bed hard. I stand over her, glaring down at her wide eyes, noticing the tears there. There’s something powerful in it, something I haven’t let myself feel in a long time. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed this sense of control. It heats my blood in the most satisfying way. I’m even getting hard, thanks to the way she whimpers and cowers.

It’s her fault. It’s all her fucking fault.

“I didn’t want to tell you!” she cries. When she closes her eyes, tears roll down her cheeks. “I promised myself I wouldn’t!”

“What did you promise yourself for? Why are you hiding shit from me?”

I’m going to lose her. She’s slipping through my fingers while I stand here, staring down at her. The one good thing that has ever been a part of my life, and she might as well be gone.

“Because…” she whispers, so softly I almost don’t hear it. “Because he made me promise.”

“He?” I snarl. I’m losing it, I feel it. I’m going to do something terrible—something I’ll probably hate myself for later. “Who is he?”

Her eyes open, and she looks at me, her chin quivering. “Nix.”

One word shouldn’t have the power to blow a person’s life apart. One single word, that’s all. But that one word is a bomb landing on my ears, tearing me apart inside.

I rock back on my heels, forgetting my anger, staring at her, waiting for the punchline that never comes. “Nix was here?”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “It’s been tearing me apart inside, wanting to tell you. I didn’t believe it at first—that he’s still alive—but he is. He came here tonight. I told him it leave…” She keeps babbling, almost hysterical. “But he wouldn’t go. He… he tied me up,” she admits, and now the tear that falls from her eye stirs absolute fury in me.

He made her cry. He was here; he hurt her, and he made her cry.

He’s been alive all this time and never fucking bothered to tell me. I don’t know what’s worse.

“I wanted to tell you!” she weeps. Her trembling hands cover her face, and her shoulders heave. “I did! But he made me promise not to. I don’t know why he’s hiding—he wouldn’t tell me.”

It seems pretty obvious to me, but that’s not what makes my fists clench. She’s mine, just mine, and now he wants her for himself.

“What did he do to you?” I can’t believe I’m able to whisper. I almost sound rational. “Tell me. I need to know.”

She pulls her sleeves down over her fists, sniffling. “I didn’t want him to, I swear. I begged him not to. I tried to fight him, but…” Her head hangs before she shakes it. “It was no use. He tied me up. Please, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t make me, please.”

Fine. I won’t. The way I’m feeling, it’s probably better. Just one more thing making me want to hurt somebody.

He’s alive, and I should be happy about it, but goddamnit. Why does it have to be like this? “Did you know he was alive before tonight?” I whisper, fighting for every breath.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you didn’t mention being surprised when you said he showed up here,” I mutter, teeth clenched. It’s the only way I can describe how strange this all seems. When I put that together with how she’s been acting lately—so secretive and distant—it all makes sense.

She releases a ragged breath. “The night you bought me the car. I went for a walk. And… he found me. He…”

When she came in that night, refusing to look at me, crying when I tried to fuck her. How did I not see it? “Tell me everything.”

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