Page 18 of Shattered
Her lips closed then, and the silence between us stretched forth. She didn’t want to admit it, whatever it was.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“I don’t want you to kill him.”
“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” I breathed, “It depends on whether or not he raped you.” Her eyes glossed over. I grabbed her chin again, pinching it tightly. “What’s his name, Melissa?”
“Jake.”
Jake. If I found confirmation of his crimes, I could use his death against her. Framing her as the killer would require evidence. Clues that I could brush like layers of paint on a canvas. Fingers would keep pointing towards Melissa: a club member’s death, a person she had recently entertained. Her roommate was gone. And then, her friend, one that she considered a brother. A man who hurt her in a way she didn’t consent to. He might not have bruised her, but there was abuse there, the kind I wouldn’t let slide.
She was strong and unafraid, but she was vulnerable too, baring herself to me, letting a murderer see deeper into her soul than anyone ever had. Because Melissa had murdered too. Not avenging the death and abuse of so many others before her, but from what I knew, to protect her friend. Did she deserve a life in prison for the crimes I had committed? No, she didn’t. But that didn’t matter.
I grabbed her arms tight in my hands, and she gasped, the towel tucked around her body loosening. I could throw her against the wall and tear her towel to shreds and fuck her until she turned blue in the face from screaming my name.
But that would make me like them. And that was the one thing I wouldn’t do.
The fact that the thought had crossed my mind, was a bad sign. I wanted to believe I had found someone like me, but that I knew that thought was false.
The control was escaping from my fingertips. Second by second.
I threw my grip on her enough that she stumbled back, falling onto the bed. Then I went to the other bedroom, letting myself out through the balcony doors.
“When will I see you again?” she asked. “I don’t even have your number.”
She wasn’t supposed to say things like that. I wanted her to trust me; it gave me an advantage over her. But it wasn’t supposed to come to exchanging phone numbers this fast.
“Go to work,” I said. “Think of it as practice. Letting go of your own mask for once. Showing your true self.”
I hopped over the edge, then over the fence, letting myself walk along the canal. Once I was out of sight, I removed my mask, letting the fresh air hit me like cold water. An itch stirred inside of me. The urge to control. To manipulate my surroundings and prove my power over those who preyed on the weak. Like that man had preyed on my mother, like he had abused me.
The idea of Melissa being hurt by another person, forced to do something against her will, was enough to make me rage. Killing wasn’t supposed to be about emotion. It was about controlling the outcome. Making the world less violent for those who didn’t need that in their lives. Brutality by choice only.
And why in the hell had I told her to go to work?
I could lie, telling myself that she needed to practice being unapologetically herself, but I knew what was underneath that. I knew what I was going to do. Framing her wouldn’t be easy if she had an alibi.
But even the best criminals had alibis. I had to remember that.
In my car, I drove through the town to the outskirts of Sage City. An off-ramp crowded by thick patches of ivy led to a bridge, and beyond that, an abandoned neighborhood of foreclosed homes, evidence of the forgotten domestic fantasy. A chain-link fence was posted around a white-trimmed house, a black sign statingStay Out!hanging off of it. I parked around the street, then put on my mask and went through an opening in the fence. Let myself in. Waited with my back facing the wall.
A few minutes later, soft footsteps filtered through the space. She turned around, facing her back to me too.
“Nick Vantage,” she said. “Drives a pickup truck. Left Jenna for dead after he robbed her.”
“Nick Vantage,” I repeated.
Her footsteps receded, and I clenched my fists, readying myself.
All I needed was his name.
