Page 44 of No Mercy
I don’t think I’ve cried so much in one day but fuck, I need to hear her voice.
“Hey baby, It’s me.” She says softly.
The second her voice meets my ears, the tears flow uncontrollably.
“Where are you, are you safe, are you hurt?”
She sighs, “I’m fine Eva, I promise you I am safe. I’ll be back soon okay? I just have some things I need to finish.”
“What things? You know I can help you with anything Mandy. We’re a team.”
“I know sweetie, but I have to do this by myself, I need you to trust me. Go have some fun until I’m back okay?”
I carefully listen to her words, trying to find a hidden message like we trained, but nothing comes through apart from reassurance and calmness.
A lot of people are asking me to trust them lately.
When we first started working together, we decided to come up with our own little safe words, just in case something ever happened and we can’t ask for help. There is only one true way to know if she is telling me the truth.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself, “I just need to know one thing. Are the pigs flying?”
She laughs down the phone, “No Eva. The pigs are not flying.”
Wiping a tear from my cheek, I nod my head accepting her answer.
“I’m glad you’re okay Mandy, I expect a full report of whatever the fuck has happened when you get back.”
I know she’s smiling down the end of the phone from her tone, “I promise, goodbye love.”
She ends the call, once again leaving me alone but the silence doesn’t last long as the floorboard creaks in the other room, telling me that someone didn’t leave as requested.
Clearing my throat, I move over to the sink to quickly wash my face. There is no way I am going back into that room looking like this.
Once satisfied that I no longer look like I’ve had an allergic reaction, I make my way back to the living room.
Mandy’s okay. That’s all that matters.
After being convinced, yet again to trust him, I find myself in my room, getting ready. Why am I about to step outside with a masked man? I have no idea. But somewhere deep inside, a tiny, buzzing spark of excitement refuses to be ignored. It’s like the little girl in me thinks this is some sort of fairy tale adventure, albeit the most twisted version imaginable.
Pulling my pink hoodie over my head, I glance at myself in the mirror. Normally, I’d put in the effort to look polished—fix my hair, pick out a flattering outfit, maybe swipe on some lipstick. But something tells me it won’t matter to him. Maybe he won’t even notice.
I gather my hair and twist it into a messy bun, leaving a few loose strands to frame my face. It’s casual, but it feels right. The person staring back at me from the mirror looks like a life-sized Barbie doll—blonde hair, pink clothes, and all that jazz. The hoodie complements the soft blush on my cheeks and the light pink tint on my lips. My eyes are lightly smoked with a touch of mascara, and there’s a small glimmer of highlighter on the tip of my nose.
“You’re Eva fucking Marshall,” I tell myself, my voice firm, as if saying it out loud will make me believe it.
But it doesn’t. My confidence wavers, and I throw my head back, letting out a frustrated sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Why is this so hard?
I think back to that episode ofGrey’s Anatomy,the one where Amelia does the superhero pose before surgery. If it worked for her, why not me?
I shake out my hands, trying to loosen the tight knot of nerves in my stomach, then stand tall in front of the mirror. Slowly, I place my hands on my hips, lift my chin, and push my chest out. Staring at my reflection, I hold the pose, counting under my breath.
One. Two. Three…
“I’m a superhero,” I whisper, imagining myself in a scrub room beside Amelia, preparing to face whatever chaos comes next.
The nerves don’t disappear completely, but they settle just enough. I know I should stay like this for a full five minutes, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind. If I leave the masked stalker downstairs too long, he’ll probably come barrelling up the stairs to drag me down himself.
Taking one last deep breath, I glance at my reflection again. This time, there’s a flicker of determination in my eyes.
