Page 19 of Bottoms
She wasn’t capable of shooting me as far as her trigger finger went. That little piece of her body would rebel against the squeeze it would need to end my life. She knew me too well and didn’t hate me as much as she wanted to.
“Fine,” she breathed, putting the empty box alongside the others. There were only two more left for her to unwrap. She grabbed the next one and slowly tore away the paper, trying to get more information from me.
“Tanner’s mansion isn’t easy to break into, and looking back with the wisdom of old age,” I joked, but Nessa didn’t seem to share in my humor. “I think Mike may have left the bathroom window alarm disabled for me. Either that or I got lucky to find one random weak spot in that fortress’ security system. Too bad Daddy Ryland never updated the system to stay with the times. It’s so easy to get into his security now. It’s practically a joke.”
Nessa’s hands stilled, and I tried to remember the present in the box. I knew which one I wanted her to open last, but I couldn’t tell if that was the one in her hand or not. My thighs started to burn from the squat, but the sensation was easy to push into the back of my mind as I welcomed the familiar sting.
She was so close.
“The rest of the story isn’t pretty, Vanessa. I learned just what kind of monster Daddy Ryland was that night. And why Colt was always so protective of Tanner. I was a stupid kid, and I thought Tanner was an annoying, little, rich kid brat my best friend brought along because of whathisdad did. But my little antics of stealing some asshole's dirty magazines turned out a lot worse for Tanner than writing a few lines,” I said. Feeling the burning flames of rage as they started to creep their way up my neck.
The ache in my muscles didn’t break me, but the urge to break something beautiful overwhelmed me. I got up, heading over to retrieve my empty glass and pour another finger. The burn coated my throat as I fished out my pack of cigarettes. I stuck the tip of the filter between my lips and lit my lighter before leaning forward to light the tip. Smoke swirled inside my lungs, adding to the slight burn in my throat; exactly what I needed.
I put my smokes back and found my scrunchie in my pocket. I tilted my head back to gather my hair into a bun on top of my head. There was a smile on my face as the cherry burned brighter, and I tilted my head down to look at Nessa inside her cave of blankets. Her new hairstyle didn’t subtract from her soft beauty.
“I can’t open the tape,” she said softly. Holding the box up as if she needed to defend herself.
“I know, sweetheart, I just needed to cool off for a second,” I sighed. Noting how her nose scrunched up at the term of endearment that slipped past. Too bad I happened to like it.
I brought the knife back to open her package before sitting on the edge of the mattress beside her. My weight caused a slight dip, resulting in her cave surging several inches. Nessa’s slight yelp of surprise made me laugh, and the flames of anger inside me seemed to extinguish. The fact that Nessa was with me in the present took some of the sting out of the past.
She pulled the soft blue material out of the box, and I sighed in relief that she had managed to save my favorite present for last. She looked at the material curiously as she held it up. It was a blanket, but one that draped over her body like a poncho. There was a hood attached at the top if she wanted to keep her head warm. Not that I knew she would need that feature when I bought it for her a few years ago in Prague. What had attracted me was if Nessa put it on and held out her arms, the blue and black colorings of the blanket would smooth out to reveal a butterfly's wings.
“Wow,” Nessa breathed, spinning the material around to get a good look at the wings from the back.
“When in doubt, always give comfort items. Chicks love comfort items,” I said with a smile, knowing that I did well enough to earn a response on that one.
“Blankets are a good present. I never say no to blankets,” she said with a smile.
I itched to get closer to her again. “I know,” I whispered as my lips pulled into a grin.
Nessa’s eyes widened, and she sat up straighter. Placing the blanket on the pile with the rest of her gifts. She grabbed the last present, back to business.
“Tanner’s father thought that since he was stealing nude magazines, he had reached the age where he was interested in women sexually. That dinner ended up being little Tanner’s crash course on how deranged his father’s views had become concerning women. Daddy Ryland paid to have escorts at the dinner that night, and he showed Tanner how to treat a woman. I stayed and watched it all. After that, I took the partnership, the Arsenal, more seriously.” I finished my story even though Nessa was down to a box of tape long before I finished.
I handed her the knife, noting that her hands weren’t shaking. Her entire body was incredibly still other than her arm as she slowly reached forward to take the handle. Searching her face, it seemed her mind was busy, taking some sort of runaway track, trying to analyze the conclusion of my story.
“Be careful with this one,” I said softly, not looking to scare her, but instead trying to coax her back into the present.
Her eyes flitted down to the box, and her mental train adjusted its track. She held the knife with more purpose. Cutting the tape before closing it and handing it back, I quickly pocketed it. It was my favorite knife.
She lifted the frame from the box using two hands, touching it like a bomb instead of a dried butterfly displayed inside a framed box. Rather than inspecting the insect, as she had done to the one in her bedroom, her eyes found mine.
“What’s with all the butterflies?” she asked, but her tone wasn’t condescending. It was full of genuine curiosity.
I scratched at my beard before checking my bun was secured.
“Merry Christmas, Vanessa,” I said, deciding to get up from the mattress. “You might want to consider a shower here soon. There are cans of soup in the cupboard when you get hungry.” I headed over to grab the mostly empty bottle and glass. Putting them into the sink before heading back to my office to tend to my business.
7
Pain over Panic
AdjustingtolifewithFynn happened gradually, much like my body healing. Progress seemed slow, yet each day was a little easier than the last. I carved notches into my bedpost with my new throwing knives each night before bed. Slowly marking the days as they turned to weeks.
I would venture downstairs in search of coffee and food during the day. I had nothing to eat other than soup for the first few days. And then, like magic, fresh food filled the fridge along with coffee creamer one morning. He had bought a bunch of other items from my lists, such as cleaning supplies and a collection of wigs for me to choose from.
Once I had the tools I needed, I started cleaning the house. I went from room to room, beginning with the bathroom on the main floor. The only one in the whole house, it seemed. Cleaning that room took more than one day, and there wasn’t shit I could do about the missing tile. But fuck, it felt so much better to shower in a room that wasn’t dirtier than I was.
