Page 38 of Covert
My answer? I was doing homework alone in my room. No witnesses, of course. No proof, of course.
I had no idea a single person could be so...just evil.
Still staring at our hands, Nikki asks, "What's her name?"
Her head's tilted, her voice sweet and high, but there's something laced in the words.
"Josephina Miller."
"Josephine Miller," Nikki repeats, dragging out every syllable. I'd caught her interaction with Scar a few weeks ago, where she insinuated she'd killed four people and brushed it off as flirting or bravado, but now I'm not so sure.
Deep brown eyes find mine. "You didn't deserve that, Beckett."
I swallow down a ball of emotion and nod.
"No. I need to hear you say it. You didn't deserve that."
This tiny, feisty woman comes into my life, demands to know my darkest secrets, and then demands that I say...what exactly? That I'm not a monster? That I'm not broken? That I didn't deserve to have my life ruined by a selfish little psychopath?
But I can see the conviction in her eyes. She's going to believe it enough for the both of us, and she's not going to give up until I tell her.
So, I do.
"I didn't deserve it."
She smiles approvingly, and in the next beat, she stands, breaking our hand contact.
"I'll see you again tomorrow?" she says simply, walking towards my door.
I'm not quite sure what just happened, so I do all I can do.
I nod.
Chapter eighteen
Nikki
Later that night, I yawn as I shuffle my heavy feet out into the hallway to use the restroom at the end of it. It's probably close to five am, and I went to bed shortly after holding Beckett's hand. I'm confident that if we have these little touching sessions nightly, he'll learn to be more comfortable. I'm hoping that it's not just more comfortable with me, but with women in general. I want him to know that his foster sister was not the norm, and that most women are safe. He's a great guy who deserves a little more peace in his life.
When I pass by one of the bedrooms, though, a faint light catches my eye. I peek inside to see Axel, awake, on the computer. The rest of the room is dark, but the light from the computer caught my eye.
He has two large horizontal monitors and a third vertical one. I've seen the bags under his eyes, and now I know why.
"What are you doing?" I ask casually. I can't really tell what I'm looking at, so I rub my eyes. My eyes finally focus, and on the third screen is a picture of a naked woman, kneeling on a cement floor, duct tape over her mouth and binding her wrists, tears streaming down her face. There's a chat window beneath it, full of numbers, and nausea rolls through my stomach in a hot lurch. They're bidding on her.
Axel jumps and turns in his chair, looking startled. I start to back out into the hallway in horror, but his voice trails after me.
"Nikki! It - it's - it's not what it looks like." I spin on my heel, horrified at what I'd just seen. He groans, and I hear the shuffle of him standing and rushing after me.
I sprint for the bathroom and slam the door, locking it behind me. The cold tile bites into my knees as I fall to the floor and dry heave into the toilet.
Knuckles rap against the wooden door. "Nikki, please. It's not what you think," Axel's deep voice pleads through the door.
But I can't. My brain is still processing what I saw. Could he really have been bidding on a woman? What else could it have been? He just watches them for fun? Maybe it was a documentary. Or a horror movie? But he was definitely on the computer. Maybe I'm still too asleep, but I can't logically think of a reasonable explanation for what I saw.
I dry heave again as a shiver runs through my body. My fight-or-flight instincts kick in. I have to get out of here.
I can't go back out there. I can't face him knowing what I know now. I can't live here. I can't work with someone like that. I need to get out. I'll grab my bag and leave tonight.
