Page 24 of Kneeling for Them
Collapsing onto a pizza box-littered sofa cushion, he shouts in outrage, “Hey, that’s my bedroom.”
In his bedroom, there’s a bare mattress on the floor, a couple of scummy-looking blankets, and a bong.But the real attention-getter is the entertainment center, which bears three different computer screens lined up, one-two-three.
And each screen shows something similar, but different.Each one shows a different room.A kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom.The bedroom is similar to this one, but decorated differently.It’s more feminine, with a floral-patterned comforter on the neatly-made bed.It’s tidy, and clean.I switch my focus to the living room and see a piano stool.A pair of headphones lies abandoned on the floor…like there used to be a keyboard here.
Is this Ella’s apartment?
“What the actual fuck is this?”I ask, pointing at the screens.“What the fuck is this?”
Six
Sebastian
The punk is shaking so hard, the greasy pizza box under his ass squeaks in protest.He stands up and approaches the bedroom doorway, where I’m standing.
“It’s not what it looks like!”he shouts.
“Really,” I say.“Because it looks me like you’re recording the residents.One in particular.”
“It doesn’t record!”he shouts, scrambling back.“I just…check in.”
Sick fuck.
“Sit on the floor over there,” I say, pointing to a blank section of his wall.
He scurries to do as I said, and I stand in front of the computer’s keyboard.I’m not taking his word that he’s not recording people.Absolutely disgusting.
I click through the settings and folders, searching his computer.There’s almost nothing here except some software installers…the set-up seems brand new.
“Don’t mess with my stuff,” he whines.
“You don’t have any fucking rights here,” I say, and then I realize—shit, he’s got to be breaking the law on several levels.I lift my hands from the keyboard and get my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?”he asks, a thread of fear in his tone.
“I’m calling the fucking police, asswipe.”
“Please don’t, I’ll do anything.Seriously, whatever you want.”
“I want you to pay for what you’ve done,” I say simply.“That’s all I want.You have wronged someone, and you probably need some kind of mental health services, because you are very sick.”
He lunges for me.“You’re breaking into my house!”
He takes a swipe at my face.I dodge, but he’s already throwing another punch.It connects with my cheek, close to my eye.Fuck, that hurt.
“Back the fuck off,” I tell him.“I’m warning you.”
Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t listen.This time, when he comes at me, I’m ready.I feint with one fist, then jab with the other.Down he goes with a groan.I nudge his side with my foot and he curls up with a whine.
“Don’t get up,” I tell him as I dial the police.
Ella
It’s been a long time since I went on an actual date.I take extra care getting ready in the Bartleby’s bathroom, doing my make-up, fixing my hair, changing out of clothes that reek of beer and fried food.The guys told me the date would be casual, and I’m so glad, because all I have with me is a nice top and my favorite skirt.
Natasha gives me a wink and a wave as I traipse through the dining room to meet the guys outside.
But when I step through the door to wait for them, they’re already on the sidewalk, and they’re wearing identical frowns on their faces.
