Page 6 of Kneeling for Them
You still have it in you.Is the thing I still have in me a disease?Am I a predator?I feel like I’m going to hurl.
“We’re good, right?”she asked.“I know our last talk got a little heavy.”
“Yeah.We’re good.”Lies.
I hang up and stare at the notebook in front of me.
I’m fixing this, right?
The worst part is that it’s already affecting Ella.I could see the confusion in her expression last night, but I didn’t know how to explain what’s going on in my head.I still don’t know how to explain.Shit.
How do I tell the woman I’m falling in love with that I’m the worst kind of monster?
Ella
I lean forward, peering into my apartment.I shouldn’t go in.I should call the police immediately.
I back up until my shoulders hit the wall on the other side of the hallway, then tug my phone from my purse.
Someone opens the door next to me.A teenager pokes his head out.“Are you calling the cops?”he asks.
I nod and gesture at my door.
“It’s going to take them forever to come, you know,” he says.“We’re in Bellefleur, after all.”
He’s not wrong.And I have to get to work—it’s a rare day off for Kevin, and he depends on the rest of us to pull our weight.If I wait around for the police, it’s going to make me late, and that’s not good for anyone.
“Whoever did this could still be in there,” I whisper.
“Nah, I heard a bunch of stomping around an hour or two ago.I looked out and your door was down.Haven’t heard a peep since.”
“And you didn’t think to call the police?”I ask.
He points to himself.“You think they’re going to believe someone like me?I’d end up under arrest.Or worse.No, thank you.”
He has a good point, but I want to cry.I’m going to miss my shift at the pub, but even if I did go to work, all my shit is in my apartment and I just, what, leave the door kicked in like this?What if someone steals my vibrator?
A sharp burst of hysterical laughter leaves my mouth.
The teenager looks at me in concern.“You can wait in my place while the cops are on their way.My mom’s home, but she won’t mind.”
“Thanks,” I say, “but I’ll wait in the hall.”
“Suit yourself.”Shrugging, he goes back into his apartment.
I dial the non-emergency police number, explain the situation, and sit down in the hallway.Then I dial the pub.
“Bartleby’s,” a male voice answers.
Oh, great, it’s Nicholas-don’t-call-me-Nick.
“Hi, Nicholas,” I say.“It’s Ella.I’m in a jam, and I’m going to be late.”
“What the hell, Ella?You’re so flaky, I don’t know why Kevin lets you keep working here.”
Because when I’m there, I pull my weight, I want to say.But I say instead, “I’ll come in as soon as I can.”
“Don’t bother.I’ll see if Sara can come in.She’s reliable.”
