Page 15 of When Sinners Fall
Why not walk home? It’s a beautiful night – I lie.
I plan my route on my phone and keep it in my hand, together with the flowers, the whole way home. My mind doesn’t fade into fantasy like usual. Instead, it’s stuck on every move or shadow I see flicker in the dead of night. As I head out of the more populated areas full of lights, the stupidity of what I’m doing really hits home. This is a crazy idea. And so far, there’s nothing but barely cooler air against my neck. There’s nothing familiar or exciting about what I’m doing, and ten minutes in, I’m mentally chastising myself.
I keep my head down and pick up the pace, glad that I packed flats for the parts of the day that I had to help Fiona run about.
As I finally round the corner onto my street, I almost laugh in relief. My gaze scans the shadows by the tree, but there’s no chance of seeing anything in this depth of darkness. Thankfully, my door is in sight, and my shoulders drop from the tense position around my ears. Just as I reach the steps, though, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I turn around, hoping that I’m not imagining it now, but the spin takes me dead straight at a man I’ve never seen before. He’s thin and weaselly, with pin-eyes and dirty clothes from what I can see. He smiles at me as I size him up, revealing yellow and stained teeth. My heart races as I stumble back and trip over the step, dropping the flowers from my grip as I hit the ground. I shuffle back until my back’s against the door. This isn’t like the imaginary stalker I’d conjured up. He doesn’t have dark eyes that sing to me in some screwed-up way. He’s full of menace, and he looks a little crazy.
High.
He hasn’t said a word, but he steps closer towards me and, with his fist, smashes the porch light to send shards of glass pinging over the wooden floor and cancelling the soft glow of light. I breathe, push up with my legs and fight the shakes in my hand as I wrestle to fit the key in the lock in a rush. But just as the tip of the key slips into place, his hand grips my neck and shoves me against the door, pressing my whole body against it.
I freeze, and fear turns my body to ice as I stem the sob stuck in my throat. He covers me with his body, and I can feel the length of his erection rubbing against my ass as he traps me in place. I fight the shiver of repulsion that vibrates through me at the thought of what he wants.
Tears thaw and roll down my cheeks.
“Pretty girl.” His voice is nasally and makes me cringe, and I’m too frightened to speak back. The smell of stale alcohol and bad breath wafts to me as he leans in and sniffs my hair.
Get inside. Just get inside.
But my wrist is bent up against the wood.
And I can’t reach the lock.
Just as I close my eyes, ready to apologise to anyone and everyone who might be listening for tempting fate and being a stupid girl, all the pressure from his body vanishes.
Gone.
I sag against the door as my heart stops for a second in relief, as if it, too, was waiting for something bad to happen. I don’t move, waiting for something else, but when it doesn’t come, I chance a look over my shoulder.
A bigger man, hiding behind a black hoodie shading his face, tosses the weasel aside. He clatters to the floor before he jumps back up and comes at the man with a shard of the bulb glass. My saviour punches him square in the face, and my attacker seems to realise this isn’t going to be a fight he can win.
My eyes drink in every detail I can about the man who came to my rescue, but apart from being over six feet, and clearly not afraid of a fight, I can’t see anything other than shade in the night.
In the few seconds that I’ve been watching, the wiry guy seems to reconsider his next course of action and starts to flee. I step forward, but the man in the hoodie blocks my path and shakes his head.
“Wha-”
“Get inside, lock the door,” he growls, but his voice doesn’t frighten me.
“Wait, what about him?” I ask, not sure if I should call the police.
He tilts his head at my door. “Get inside. You don’t need to worry about him.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
DRAGON
Fucking asshole is lucky I'm more bothered about her ass than I am him at the moment. I look at her and keep my head down. I'm not talking anymore. Not sure I'm ready for that or capable in this fury. And until I am ready to look her straight on, this isn't going any further than it has. Could've ended up a damn sight different if I wasn't stalking her.
She keeps looking, though. Keeps opening her mouth as if she's got more to say. I don't do anything other than stare under this shadow I'm in until she gets the hint and goes inside quietly.
The locks engage, and then I turn and start running the streets in the direction he ran. Doesn’t take long to pick up an idea where he’s gone. I’ve cut through these back routes enough myself when I needed to get out of something. Jumped fences, climbed up stairwells and crossed rooftops to avoid the law when I was younger.
I can hear him over on the next row of houses, hear the heavy crash of weight as it lands on dumpsters and then takes off again. Probably thinks he’s got away with it as I keep chasing. He hasn’t. I’ll turn this whole damn city inside out to find him if I don’t get him now because I remember his sunken eyes. I always remember the eyes and faces. Maybe it’s from my time in school. All of them around me. All of them laughing at a kid that came out of a whore. Every single one of them had eyes that laughed at me. I remember them well.
I cross through another run of gardens to put me out on the same street he’ll be on, then duck into the shadows to see if he’s been stupid enough to go out into the light yet. He has. He’s walking now, too. Walking and thinking, probably about his next try at her. I didn’t hurt him enough back there. Should have snapped a knee to make sure this chase-down was easier, but I didn’t care about him in those seconds. I cared about getting her the fuck away from him.
