Page 18 of Lock Me Out

That’s an easy one. Because I wanted to. Because it felt good, and I knew it would feel good, because there has never been a pleasure deeper and more complete than the pleasure I get from forcing her to submit to my will. To fulfill every dark, ugly fantasy that’s ever entered my mind. The temptation was too much to resist. I’ve spent months fighting it, sweating my way through sleepless nights, gripping the pillow with both hands, jerking off so much I was afraid I would chafe.

And all the time, I was thinking of her. Dreaming of her. There was only so much resistance I could put up.

Even now, cursing myself as I stalk through the dark, quiet streets, I can’t help but relish the memory of her whimpers. The way she tried to scream against my hand, the way I silenced her so easily. I can still smell her on me, a sort of sweetness and freshness I haven’t smelled in months. I can feel the warmth of her soft skin against my palm where I covered her mouth.

Oh, god, her mouth.

Sick fuck.I can’t do this. I was only supposed to be teaching her a lesson, making sure she doesn’t take risks like the one she did tonight. What the hell did she think she was doing, walking alone? And around here, of all places? She’s supposed to be smart.

Is she trying to hurt herself? Did we push her that far? There are a million questions running through my head as I take the route back to my apartment. I had to stop her when I did, knowing the further she walked, the worse her surroundings would get. If I hadn’t stopped her, someone else would have.

And they wouldn’t have stopped where I did. Hell, she would’ve considered a forced blowjob in a dirty alley a gift compared to what some of these other fuckers would’ve done to her.

Something tells me she wouldn’t feel so grateful if I explained things that way.

Did she really think it was me? I’m sure she’ll talk herself out of it. I’ve watched her at my grave, leaving flowers, talking to my headstone. Colt has said more than once in his emails that she doesn’t believe him when he says I’m alive. Maybe she was so overwhelmed, she saw what she wanted to see. Maybe heroverwhelmed brain wanted to believe she was with me and not some diseased stranger.

It really doesn’t make a difference, does it? That will never happen again. I scared her badly enough and gave her a memory she’ll never escape from. I don’t have to worry about her now.

I have to worry about myself.

“Hey, buddy, you got a few bucks?”

With my hood pulled up and the ski mask still pulled over my face, I have to turn my head to find the source of the voice. A bum in a doorway, covered in newspapers meant to keep out the cool night air. He smells like a backed-up toilet, and his face is red from exposure and maybe illness. In the glow from a nearby streetlamp, I see the desperation in his eyes.

There might’ve been a time he was like me, living a normal life—or at least one that looked normal on the surface. If there’s one thing these months on my own have taught me, it’s how quickly and completely life can change. People have stories we can’t see on the surface. I never had much sympathy for others in the past. I would’ve needed to actually think about them in order to feel sorry for them or empathize or whatever.

Reaching into my jeans, I pull out a couple of bills and thrust them his way. “Here. Good luck,” I say without bothering to check how much I gave him. Whatever it is, he needs it more than I do.

What a shame an action like that can’t erase the harm I just did. I could give away a fortune and it wouldn’t make a dent. I couldn’t help myself. Once I had her where I wanted her, trembling against my body, getting me hard with every short, terrifiedbreath, there wasn’t a chance I’d be able to keep from pushing her further.

The sight of a taco truck up ahead makes my stomach growl. It’s as good a choice for dinner as any, and there’s no line. Lifting the ski mask up to my forehead and keeping my hood in place, I approach, my head low as I mutter my order. The people on the other side of the window don’t seem to care either way if they can see me. My money is green. Really, when you get right down to it, the world is very simple. Everything is an exchange. Everything has a price.

And tonight, Leni paid the price for being stupid and careless with her safety.

Not only her, either.

My fists clench in my pockets when I think of Colt. Colt, who’s so damn worried about her, thinking she’s hiding something from him, knowing there’s something she’s keeping from him. Colt, who would let her walk around out here by herself. He should know better than that, shouldn’t he? Then why wouldn’t he do everything in his power to keep her home, where she’s safe? Does he just let her wander around on her own?

Maybe he doesn’t deserve her, then.

A sharp whistle from further down the street catches my attention, and I lift my head just far enough to see where it comes from. A car is slowing down as it reaches the corner, where a couple of girls wait. Not just girls. It looks like they’re trying to make a little money tonight. One of them leans into the open window and has a short conversation before getting in the car.

We all do what we have to do. I never would’ve seen this side of life if it wasn’t for having to hide from everyone who’s ever known me.

And where is Colt right now? Sitting in his apartment, probably, waiting for his girlfriend to come home. His girlfriend, who just sucked my dick in an alley. A smile of grim satisfaction stretches my mouth before I accept my order and keep walking, in a hurry now to get out of the grim, unforgiving night.

He doesn’t know how good he has it. He never will. He’s been able to go on living the life we both enjoyed, now he can enjoy the girl we’ve both enjoyed.

I shouldn’t do this to myself. I can’t. Things are bad enough as it is. I have enough to wrestle with without adding the pressure of feeling like a piece of shit for resenting my brother. There’s nothing to resent him for. Nothing but the way he would let Leni wander around by herself, unprotected, like she’s not worth taking care of.

He needs to learn a lesson, too.

My mind is made up by the time I reach the apartment, where the same two guys are sitting on the steps—the way they are morning, noon, and night. I’m pretty sure they’re selling drugs out here, but it’s none of my business. I jerk my chin at them and go inside, taking the stairs at my usual pace, ignoring a screaming baby on the second floor on my way up to the third. As soon as I’m in the apartment, I pull out the burner phone I bought at a corner store and type out a text to Colt. He’ll never be able to trace who it came from. It’ll probably drive him nuts, wondering who’s reaching out.

Or maybe it won’t. Maybe he’ll know it’s me, just like he somehow knows I’m still alive.

Watch out. You’re not taking care of her like you’re supposed to.

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