Page 19 of Stealing His Cupcake
“W-what?”
“You’re in his bedroom.” She was here before I arrived. Before even Turbo arrived. Was she waiting for him like a little sexy surprise? The mere thought makes me see red, and I have to remind myself not to squeeze Amy’s arms too tightly. Even if she was sleeping with this pig for whatever reason, I still don’t want to hurt her.
“No! I wasn’t-wasn’t sleeping with him!” Her voice is a little stronger as she says it and she even looks affronted, as if I’ve insulted her. It soothes me a little. “I came to ask about Craig. The door, it was open, I heard music, came in, and I’m just stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” She lets out a broken whimper. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything, I swear. Please, don’t kill me.”
My heart nearly breaks as I look into her doe-like eyes. I want to wrap my arms around her and soothe her, tell her I’d never hurt her and that everything will be alright, but I can’t. Not yet.
Once I have her safely at my house, I can reassure her, but right now I need compliance. Still, I can’t have her passing out from fright, either. “I won’t kill you,” I say slowly, waiting for the words to truly reach her panicking mind. She doesn’t seem to believe me but her frantic breaths slow down. “If you do exactly what I say, everything will be alright.” Better than alright. Everything will be perfect. “Okay?”
“O-okay.” Like Turbo’s did, her eyes hold a spark of hope now. Though unlike with Turbo, I’m not looking to extinguish it.
“Good. Now, go wash your face. I might have accidentally smeared some blood on it earlier.”
She swallows roughly, losing a bit of color, but doesn’t say anything, simply nodding before disappearing in the bathroom. A good girl indeed. I think I’ll love having her around, though I still have to plan how to go about that.
As I wrap Turbo’s body in the plastic, I think about the miracle that brought her here, right into my path, just when I was determined to leave. I mean, what are the odds? It’s like the universe is telling me I can’t possibly continue my life without her.
I would have left. I truly would have, no matter how painful it would have been. Convinced that Amy deserves someone better, I planned to take care of Turbo, get in my car, and drive away, never to return. Even the thought had me breaking out in cold sweat like a junkie giving up his poison of choice, but I was determined to do the right thing for once.
But now? Now I can’t leave her behind, even if I wanted to. Funny how these things work out.
Noticing Turbo left some blood on the floor as he tried to crawl away, I call to Amy, “Cupcake? Would you bring a bucket of water and a scrub over here? If this pig even owns one,” I add as I look around the filthy room. I’mhonestly surprised it’s not swarming with cockroaches. Or ants. Or giant mutated antroaches or something.
“Okay,” comes the answer, a little shaky but stronger than her previous whimpers. My girl is strong, which is a good thing because I’m about to mess with her a little to make extra sure she doesn’t cause trouble.
By the time she shows up, I have the body wrapped up and taped, ready for transport. Getting a body out of an apartment is tricky, which is why I usually lure victims elsewhere, but Turbo’s place is on the second floor, and his bedroom window opens onto a back alley where I’ve already parked the dingy old van I purchased with cash solely for this purpose. I’ll just drop the body behind it and swing around to pick it up. Of course, I didn’t expect to find myself with a beautiful hostage, but I’ll make it work.
Stopping in the doorway, Amy makes a conscious effort to not look at the wrapped body, keeping her eyes downcast. She raises the bucket. “Here.”
“Wash that blood away for me, please,” I instruct her, pointing at the dark streaks on the wooden floor. Amy pales, her deep umber skin taking on an ashen cast, but she obeys. Seeing her swallow repeatedly, I add, “If you’re going to vomit, make sure to aim for the bucket, or you’re cleaning that up, too.” With how messy the place is, I don’t worry about leaving some DNA behind, but I don’t intend to make it easier for the police.
Her brows twitch like she wanted to glare at me, then thinks better of it, and I’m a bastard for finding it funny. A good girl with a pinch of fire. I love it. I just need to make sure the fire is contained so that it doesn’t burn either of us.
“Oh, you should probably give me your phone, too.” I should have thought of that earlier. In my defense, I’m not used to taking hostages.
Reaching into the pocket of her deliciously tight jeans, Amy hands me an old device with a cracked screen. I make a mental note to buy her a new one. Once she’s settled into her new life, of course.
“I haven’t called anyone,” she says quietly, sounding almost surprised, like that option hasn’t even occurred to her.
“That’s a good thing, cupcake, because then I’d have to kill them and it could get messy.” Her eyes widen and the tremble is back, but I push on. “I will kill anyone you ask for help. Anyone. And their deaths will be on your conscience. So think before you open that beautiful mouth of yours. Now, get cleaning.” I know. I’m an asshole.
As I bring Turbo’s body to the bedroom, I notice a bag on the floor. It contains fresh groceries and a crinkled newspaper. One glance at it explains Amy’s presence here. Her ex-boyfriend’s conquests plastered across two pages. It’s no wonder she showed up here demanding answers.
When I come back to the living room, Amy is done with the cleaning and hesitantly eying the door, no doubt thinking whether she should make a run for it. I’m relieved when she chooses not to. I would have caught her, but then I’d have to restrain her and I’d very much prefer not to do that. Outside of the bedroom, of course.
“Good job,” I praise. “Now that you’re officially an accessory to murder, I assume you’ll be eager to help me get rid of the body?”
Amy sputters. “I-I’m what? You made me do this! I didn’t want to.”
“Oh, really? Have fun proving that to the police. Who do you think they’ll believe?” Her. Of course they would believe her, but she doesn’t know that for sure, and I’m convincing enough to erode that belief even further. I can silence her friend or anyone else Amy tries to contact, but not an entire police department. If she ever gets a chance to call the police, I need her to think twice about it and then decide against it.
Her glare melts away faster than snow on a warm summer day. “They would believe me. Wouldn’t they?” By now, she probably realized I’m a rich, well connected white guy, and she’s anything but. I won’t point out the racial dynamic at play, because it’s disgusting that such issues still persist in the 21st century, but Amy is smart enough to figure it out on her own.
“Do you want to test it?”
“I…”
She hesitates, and that’s good enough for me. “Alright then. Let’s go collect our body.”
