Page 6 of Bee

A man is in the bed.

Covers pulled high, hiding most of him except for a messy shock of dark hair. He’s sleeping, breathing deep, completely unaware of what’s coming.

My pulse hammers against my ribs.

I could end this now. Just lunge forward, sink the blade into him before he even knows he’s awake.

But I don’t.

I want to see his face. I want him to know.

I step closer, my breath shallow, my fingers twitching. Then, slowly, I press the tip of the knife into the blanket, just enough to make contact.

The body stirs. A sharp inhale. Then?—

Stormy gray eyes snap open.

I freeze.

The man jerks up, scrambling back against the headboard, his hands flying up in surrender. The covers drop from his face, and suddenly, I’m staring at a familiar face—one that doesn’t belong to my attacker.

His gaze locks onto mine, sharp, alert, flicking down to the knife before meeting my eyes again.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes. "Do you even remember who I am?"

The voice. Deep. Rough. Familiar.

It slams into me all at once. The bar. The whiskey. The bartender.

He’s not the man who hurt me.

The knife in my hand trembles. The room tilts. My stomach churns.

I got it wrong.

I almost?—

I stagger back, my breath shuddering, my mind racing to catch up.

The bartender watches me carefully, his hands still up, his chest rising and falling a little too fast.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to fix the moment before it shatters completely.

Dropping the knife on the floor I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I fucked this up completely. This man saved me and here I am brandishing a weapon about to kill him. Thankfully I didn't follow through with my intrusive thoughts just to kill him while he sleeped.

"Hey, you good?" He asks finally dropping his hands down.

"No, man. Does it look like I'm good?" I snap at him and instantly regret it. This isn't how I show him my gratitude or the fact that I'm sorry he was woken up like that.

"I don't know what the hell you look like right now besides a crazy woman with a knife."

"I dropped it see, now I'm just a crazy woman." I smirk sarcastically at him.

"Yeah, sure. You need a hospital or something?" He asks stepping around me and to his dresser where he pulls out a plain white t-shirt.

"No, I'm fine. I just need to get out of here. How did I end up here in the first place?" I cross my arms over my chest and it's only then that I realize that I'm not wearing my clothes but something that belongs to him. "Where the hell are my clothes?"

"Bag out front."

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