Page 20 of Property of Chaos

Perhaps that was where my danger lay all along? In my irrelevance.

I slide into bed with a faint smile twitching my lips and release a sigh as I tug the blanket over my shoulder. I’m broken, but that’s where my strength lies: in the sharp edges left behind when he tore my spirit to pieces. When he broke every bright-eyed dream I ever had as a child.

He taught us that our words are our greatest weapon.

I never realized until now how my pain can shape those words. How my suffering can give weight to my voice.

How the things he did to destroy me will, ultimately, be the things that undo him.

EIGHT

CHAOS

She stopped close enoughto me that the floral notes of her soap intoxicated my senses with the contrasting softness. I could have extended my arm and brushed the backs of my fingers across her cheek as she stood at the window, staring into the night. But then her chin dropped, a sigh huffing past those lush lips as she backed away, and I didn’t have it in me to interfere.

Witnessing her in all her fractured glory was far more satisfying.

My midnight muse froze before me, eyes wide as she searched the room for the odd thing out: me. She looked right fucking at me, then swept those dark eyes away a moment before she darted from the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

I followed, safe with her distraction, as she plunged her hands beneath the tap, head resting against the mirror in front of her.

I followed, and I fucking drank her in while she dissolved before me.

Theresa was right—the girl has a history—and it’s a fucking doozie of a story, I’d wager.

I pluck a new cigarette from the pack as I watch the sunrise behind her house, sitting in the long grass on the opposite side of the road. The bedroom light never came on again, which appeased me somewhat. But then again, she didn’t turn it on when I disturbed her, either. The flame of my lighter licks across the end of the smoke, tobacco crackling as it lights. I take a long draw and hold it briefly before releasing the smoke into the thick morning air.

The cloud hangs before me, taking its sweet time to dissipate.

“What do you reckon?” I glance down at the grey cat sitting beside me, its eyes half-closed against the morning light. “You think she’s okay now?”

The fucker’s tail swishes across the ground, dry leaf matter amongst the grass scritching with the movement.

I rub between his ears with two fingers and take another pull on the smoke before plucking it from my lips.

“Your momma’s got some shit going on, huh?”

The animal pushes to its feet and butts its head against my thigh with a tiny yip. We’ve only known each other an hour or so, but already I can tell the feline barely meows—just communicates with little squeaks of noise. His docked ear tells me he was neutered as a stray, yet he seems connected to the pretty woman inside the cottage.

“Guess I should go play the boss now, huh?”

He continues smooshing his ear against my leg, a content purr emanating from his fat little body.

“Yeah, I could hang out here all day, too.”

I run my palm down the cat’s back in a smooth rhythm, attention across the road on the undisturbed curtains of her bedroom. Last I checked, it was a little after seven, meaning she must surely get up for work soon. What if she didn’t sleep well? What if the same fucking demons that had her awake in the night came back to play after I left?Fuck.I didn’t check herbathroom. Maybe she has a stash of pills in there. Did she take anything while she stood there? I can’t remember.

I’m seconds from ditching my smoke and getting my ass up to march across the road when her front door opens. She steps onto the porch, one hand shielding her eyes from the bright day beyond. I damn near inhale the whole fucking cigarette with a sudden intake of breath, body frozen solid directly across from her. All she has to do is look slightly left…

“Murph?” Her soft question carries across the still landscape as she searches right.

The fucker beside me sets his ass down and curls his tail around himself, ears pricked for her next call.

“Murphy?” She steps further onto the porch until the sunlight touches her waist, the same oversized T-shirt she slept in sweeping across her thighs. Herinkedthighs.

Fuck. Me. Dead.

What the hell did I do to deserve having this absolute wet dream live across the road from our new home?

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