Page 54 of Lock Me Out

When they’re together, there’s no hope of fighting what’s inside them. And they always end up taking it out on me. That is the last thing I should want to be around, right? I should protect myself from them.

So why do I still want to see Nix walk through that door right this very minute? Why am I a little twisted up inside, imagining him in pain, maybe even in danger?

Instead of setting up the pull-out like the nurse suggested, I pull a blanket from the closet and curl up in the chair next to the bed. I would rather keep watch over Colt, anyway.

And it’s not like I have any chance of falling asleep with Nix out there somewhere, all alone.

24

NIX

It’s notlike I don’t have any experience sneaking around, avoiding notice. It’s like I’ve been preparing for this night all along.

By the time I reach my shitty neighborhood, the blood along the side of my face has dried. I must look like something out of a horror movie—one side scarred, the other looking like I just paid a visit to a butcher shop. My hood hides it all anyway, and I make sure to pull the sides over my face whenever I come too close to people. Not that they would go out of their way to stare for long. It’s only a Tuesday night, but it seems like most of the people I pass are either on their way to do something fun or coming back from it, half-drunk and distracted by their own shit.

Besides, nobody likes to stare too long at the weird, secretive guy with his hands in his pockets. He could be trouble.

Right now, Iamtrouble. I almost wish somebody would try to fuck with me just so I could have an excuse to kick their face in.

Who did it? Who tampered with Colt’s car? It’s obvious the same person is responsible for the message Leni got today—I mean,I’m not a genius, but I can put two and two together. But who did it? How will we ever find out? Those questions, added to the soreness that gets a little worse with every block I trudge, have me in the mood for violence.

As it turns out, there’s no excuse to lash out by the time I reach the apartment building. If the guys on the front stoop have missed me, they don’t show it, sticking to the usual chin-jerk greeting before they go back to their softly muttered conversation. It’s funny how I’ve told Colt so many times I want to come back here rather than live with him and Leni and put them in danger because, as I walk up the narrow stairs and smell the familiar piss and cooking odors from other apartments, it hits me—I never saw myself doing this again. Not really. Deep down inside, I didn’t think I’d ever come back.

It’s a good thing I’m still paid up on the rent and my key still works in the locks. It’s not like I could go back to Colt’s apartment with blood on my face. I managed to sneak past the front desk before, but I don’t want to risk somebody deciding to pay attention tonight.

The apartment seems smaller than it did before. Already, spending time with Colt and Leni has made the life I lived for all those months seem pitiful and empty. Not like I saw it any other way before, but now it’s like everything’s much more obvious. There are times I wonder if this is where I belong, really—someplace cramped and worn down and bleak, without hope. How much better do I deserve?

At least the water is hot when I step into the shower after shedding my clothes. Once I’ve rinsed the blood off my face, I touch gentle fingers to where it hurts the worst, wincing when I make contact with the place where the side of my head hit the window.

If living through the destruction of my childhood home taught me anything, it’s that pain never lasts. I’ve almost forgotten all about it by the time I finish washing off and step out to dry. Hell, even the towels are better at Colt’s. Who am I kidding, telling myself I can go back to living like this when I now remember what it’s like to live better?

How am I supposed to go back to living like this when there’s still somebody out there determined to hurt Leni—even to kill her?

The snarl I wear when I meet my gaze in the mirror barely scratches the surface of how I’m feeling about whoever is after her. How am I supposed to find them? I can’t sit back and wait for them to try again. They might be successful next time. Tonight, we got lucky.

Though right now, I’m still sore as hell, and I wonder how lucky we actually are. I don’t feel that way when I lift my arms overhead to stretch out my aching muscles. How much worse does Leni feel? And what about Colt? Shit, I don’t even know if he woke up yet or not. I can’t sit around and wait. That’s not what I do.

By the time I’m dressed, I know what needs to happen next. I’m not going to hang around this shithole and hope my brother is okay. I’m going to go see for myself. First, I call Colt’s phone and hope he’ll answer. I probably should’ve done that sooner, but I’m not thinking clearly. It’s hard to keep things straight when all I want to do is hurt somebody.

It isn’t Colt who answers, but the sound of Leni’s voice is like a balm smoothed over my troubled soul. “It’s me,” I murmur, and her choked sob tells me how worried she had to be. Closing my eyes, I absorb the sound, and I know I don’t deserve it.

“Where have you been? I was so worried!”

“I went back to my place. Where are you? Is he okay?”

“They’re keeping him overnight at the hospital. He has a concussion, but I think he’ll be fine.”

“And you’re staying?”

“Yes, I have to be here,” she explains. “I would worry myself to death at home.”

“What room are you in?”

A soft gasp tells me she wasn’t expecting the question, and I don’t know how that’s possible. Like I wouldn’t want to be there. “It’s too risky.”

“Are you going to tell me where to find you, or am I going to walk around the hospital all night looking? There’s a lot less chance of me being spotted and questioned if I know exactly where to go, right?”

She keeps me waiting longer than I like but finally gives in the way I knew she would. “It’s 836. But there’s no way you’ll be able to get through without somebody asking who you are.”

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